In Your Atmosphere
by the beloved you
Summary: Beginning in high school, Ross and Rachel's long dramatic saga as life-long soulmates. The genre of Ross and Rachel fanfiction has been on the decline in recent years, but I believe these epic lovers deserve more epic stories. Please RnR!
1. i wish you knew

He was born loving Rachel Green. He was blessed, and cursed, and riddled, and consumed by her. There were times when he thought, what if she never existed? Would my days be less burdened by the thankless agonies of love if a girl named Rachel weren't so heartbreakingly perfect in my eyes? Will my around-the-clock pursuit of her be shot to Hell if and when she takes my love and grinds it into the dirt like the burned-out ashes from a fire?

How could he not wish for her to die at times when she was killing him so?

But then the sun sets, and the lights go down, and everybody's lonely in their own private fogs reflecting on their days...and there is a beautiful boy named Ross who always chooses HER over the mundane unburdened sanities of life. He gives everything to her, even when she doesn't take it, and doesn't even realize it's there. He doesn't care if she mocks him, ruins, rejects, degrades, puts him out of his misery and KILLS him like a dog in the street. She could go on laughing and lollygagging in other regions, with other men, and he would be here, _always here_, not waiting, not_ expecting _a goddamn wink from her, but just here, in this place, in this home where he was living for her.

And he chooses this insanity because he chooses love. He chooses her. Or who knows..._maybe she chose me._

And anyways, these were all the mature and more elite thoughts of a well-learned man, weren't they? Or perhaps nothing much had changed in the past thousand years he'd been loving her; that's what it felt like, a thousand years, a day, a wink in the eye of God's infinity, whatever, who knew. But let's begin on a football field back in 1987 when the Geller boy was a Lincoln High School senior all tied up in his teenage awkwardness, among other things.

He was leaning on the fence exhausted from track practice, doing what, you guessed it, watching Her, from a distance. You could always find him there, this pensive kid in the shadows, the quiet observer just content to watch her move. She was ring leading her fellow cheerleaders in their daily practice on the field. Her shorts were barely there and exposed her bronzed and angular legs. She topped this off with an oversized sweatshirt inside which her tiny frame was drowning. She looked so beautiful, so sweet, like a soft doll, or even a Long Island angel doing high jumps and laughing with her friends. Just to be around her was a privilege. Just to know her was something to cherish. And he _did_ know her, and had access to her on a somewhat personal basis. Because for some odd reason, with all the cheerleader girls and hunky jocks at her feet, she was still his younger sister Monica's faithful best friend. She came to his house quite often; not to see him, of course, but it was still amazing to have her under his roof, being that close to where he was. And it sent chills up his spine knowing she was sleeping two doors down from him when she sometimes spent the night in Monica's bedroom. She high-fived her cheer squad co-captain, Mindy, and giggled girlishly and sweetly. Sweat was still running down his neck and chilling him in the October wind. God he wanted her.

"Damn, what a view! I'll bet her ass tastes like French vanilla ice cream."

Ross turned around and saw Connor, his foul-mouthed buddy from the track team. He rolled his eyes. "Connor, do me a favor and fall off the face of the planet."

Connor laughed, "Sure, I'll do that. I just hope I land inside Rachel Green."

Ross cringed and shot him a look. "Dude, shut up, will you? I'm serious."

"What, so I'm not allowed to fantasize about this chick just because you've got this stupid little crush? Like you're gonna take her home and fuck her on your dinosaur sheets tonight? Step off, Geller. It's not like you've got dibs on her or anything. I mean, who isn't in love with Rachel Green?"

Ross hated hearing Connor talk about her. He didn't like the way her name sounded rolling off his lips. He shot him yet another disgusted look, which Connor just smirked at. "Dude, whatever. Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, man, you got your car?"

"No, Monica drove it today."

Connor's eyes widened in exaggerated awe. "Woah, can Monica fit in your car?"

"Yeah, but she stretches it out." The boys shared a cruel laugh at the expense of his sister. It wasn't like Ross to joke that way. Connor tended to bring it out in him.

"Well, should we go, or do you wanna wait for Little Miss In-Your-Dreams to stop making out with her boyfriend?"

Ross turned around and got an eyeful of Rachel lip-locking with Chip, the infamous football stud. Other kids gathered around to ooh and aah, but mostly bowing in awe of Lincoln High's most talked-about power couple. Ross felt small and he ached inside, but he couldn't tear his eyes away for some reason. In some strange, sick way he liked ripping his own heart out like this. He watched as Chip ran a firm masculine hand up her body and back down again to grope her butt with his greedy flaunting touch. Even Connor knew to drag Ross away from a scene like this.

"Come on, dude, let's go." He threw a sweaty arm of camaraderie around Ross, and the two gangly boys walked off together, away from that whooping gang of Prom Queens and everything that's in your dreams...away from her.

A few blocks down the road, Connor jabbered on into Ross' tired ear as they neared their houses. "I'm tellin' ya, dude, you gotta lower your standards and be realistic if you intend to get laid before going to college. Rachel Green is just a fantasy. She's probably not even a real person! She sure as Hell isn't gonna give you the time of day. It's like a fuckin' monarchy at this school. At least 50 guys would have to die before we'd get elected Prom King. No, no, forget that, they'd probably bring in some football jocks from another school, or even another _country_ before they'd give us a crown."

Ross hung his head to the ground, watching the same stone he'd been kicking for five blocks. "Nobody's trying to be the Prom King. At least I'm not."

"Good, that's good. Lower your standards, man, be realistic. Speaking of lower standards, what about Sandy Bergman? Don't you two have something going on?"

Ross shrugged. "Sure...sort of...whatever." And truly that's what most things were to him, just a shrug, and a "whatever," and just another nameless "thing" that could come or go, live or die, for all he cared. And now Connor was going on about this Sandy girl as if he could force himself to care, or to even pull her out of a whole gallery of monotonous faces.

"You may as well just blow your virginity on Sandy before she runs off with some band geek and leaves you in the dust. Her ass won't be as sweet as a cheerleader's, and she won't be as experienced as that mega slut Rachel Green, but--"

Connor didn't finish that sentence. Ross whipped around in a sudden beastly reflex of rage and shoved him hard in the gut. Connor was caught by surprise and toppled to the ground. Ross' eyes were on fire. A nerve had been struck. He stood over Connor and waited, no, _begged_ for retaliation. This wasn't playful boyish monkeying around in the schoolyard. This was serious warfare among men. At least it had the potential to be. Luckily Connor was all talk, and didn't have it in him to start brawling just for the sake of vengeance. And Ross was a passive soul who wouldn't hurt a fly unless you pushed and pushed and pushed him until his blood boiled and he snapped. There was no more fire in his eyes. The rage melted into the same shy and gentle grace that was there before.

"I'm sorry, dude," he said. And he offered his hand to his fallen friend. This Connor refused and got off the ground by himself, but he shrugged apologetically.

"I know I have a big mouth. Whatever I said that pissed you off, I'm sorry."

"It's all right." Their strange altercation went unnoticed on the quiet suburban street. They walked on together, only a half block away from Ross' house.

"So are we going to the football game tonight?" Connor asked.

"Yeah, sure. Oh, and I think Will wants to come too."

Connor cringed. "Ah man, I hate that kid. He's so damn fat! You should hook him up with your sister."

"All right, enough with the cracks about Monica's weight."

"Or what, you'll shove me again like a little pussy boy?" he said jokingly.

"Hey, you're the one who didn't fight back."

"Hehe, I'll get you when you least expect it, buddy boy!" They were right in front of the Geller's beautiful Colonial style house. Connor playfully swatted Ross upside the head and walked off toward his own house further down the road. "Pick me up around seven for the game. Oh, and try to hook Will up with Monica so we don't have to take him."

Ross threw him one final eye roll of the afternoon and chuckled. "See ya later, douche bag."

When Ross was almost to his front door, Connor shouted over his shoulder, "Hey, don't forget to picture my face when you're jerking off tonight!"

"I'm gonna picture your mother!" Ross shot back. Speaking of mothers, Judy Geller promptly opened the front door, curious about all the hollering going on outside her house. "Uuuh, hi Mom," Ross said rather sheepishly.

"Hi sweetie. I'm sorry Monica took your car today. Do you want a snack?"

"Uh sure. I mean, I'll get it myself." Ross slinked through the door past his mother. He had been somewhat distant from his parents lately. He loved them dearly, but he just wanted them out of his face, and off his back at all times. He wanted his doors shut, and his life left a mystery to everyone. It was a teenage phase, just like everything, right? Well, perhaps not _everything_.

In the kitchen he threw together a hasty sandwich and wolfed it down by the sink. He noticed something on the refrigerator door that caught his eye. And how could it not catch anybody's eye? That's the reason she was in this world, wasn't it, to catch eyes. It was her face and her haunting beauty doing a joyful little cheer (for him? for anybody) and she was blurry on a newspaper page and her features not well captured by a shoddy camera lens. But it was good enough to draw him in, sandwich in hand, and admire her like a spectator from the theater seats watching her dance. It was an article in the local newspaper about the Homecoming game tonight, and it featured her, who else? Her smile was mega-watted and worth a million bucks. It made him believe in God, and the possibility of true and imminent perfection in a maddening world. He felt Judy's hand on his shoulder, and he flinched slightly.

"Oh, doesn't Rachel look lovely in that picture?" she chirped.

Ross felt awkward and uncomfortable. This was one of those moments when he wanted to exile himself to his bedroom and be alone with his all-consuming thoughts of her. "Yes," he answered bluntly.

Judy looked at him, slightly concerned by his tone. "Are you all right, Ross? Tough day at school?" She noticed the way he was nervously eyeing Rachel's picture, so lovesick, desirous, and sad in a way. She was well aware of her son's epic history of adoring Monica's gorgeous best friend. He didn't answer. He looked like he wanted to get away. She reached over and took the picture off the refrigerator. "Here, would you like to put this in your room?"

"No, mom, geezus!" He threw his half-eaten sandwich on the floor, and bolted up the stairs to his room. He snapped, much like he'd snapped at Connor just a few minutes earlier. What the hell was he capable of under circumstances such as these? He slammed the door and took a little comfort in the four walls of privacy now enclosing him, but not much. He collapsed on his bed and stared at the ceiling. What more could he do? He was lost in the same old teenage sagas of angst, all of it tied in some way to this all-consuming business of love. He felt so lonely and small, and at so many losses. This was the reason he snapped at his mother. He just couldn't stand being confronted by anyone who thought they "knew" of all the passionate traumas he suffered under. It was somehow mocked and belittled in their sight. They couldn't console it, or touch it, or even approach it. It was all his.

And you know why? Because people have a cruel way of disregarding young love and denying it's sincerity. They belittle it, discount it, reduce it down to "puppy love" that god awful term that means nothing, just something the old skeptics say when snubbing the youth. Some loves are silly, it's true. Some are phases, some are crazes, some are born to die in a day, and that quickly they fade. But as for Ross, even in his high school days when everything else was young and dumb, his love for Rachel Green was still the truest thing of all. He was in love with her. It was love, it was love, it was love. Who could honestly tell him he was wrong? No one questioned the love he felt for his parents, or his sister, or even his damn dog ChiChi. Why couldn't he love a radiant golden cheerleader who set the world on fire with her smile? He had quit debating the sincerity of it. He didn't have to explain anything to anybody. It just _was_.

He pulled off his sweaty gym clothes and got in the shower. He didn't want to see Connor tonight. He didn't want to watch football tonight. He felt touchy and weird and all tangled up in strange contradictions that fogged his brain. The shower was nice. Nice warm seclusion. But the water was growing colder by the second. Isolation is cold, you know. So he got out and threw on some clothes and made himself call Connor about the football game.

He sat on the bleachers with his friends, buried in the massive whooping crowd of Friday night teenagers. He watched his love top the pyramid at halftime and perform adorable little cheers for the crowd in all her spirited bombshell grace. "I love you," he whispered while the crowd was roaring for the team. And it might sound strange, but he _swore_ there was a world of little girl sadness and voids she'd been hiding behind a smile all her life. He could see it wasn't all butterflies and sunshine in her world. Maybe she was too young and naïve to know this about herself at that point. Maybe it was the sadness only others can perceive when looking into your weary eyes. How did he know? He just knew _her_. He was the only one seeing her as more than just a glossy sexual doll, the way Elton John must've seen Marilyn Monroe when he wrote "Candle in the Wind," or something to that effect.

"I love you," he whispered again. He was such a sweet and honest kid. And he would always be there.

I wish you knew, I wish you knew...and he did wish to be known and acknowledged. Everybody does. But it could go on like this, and he would never question it or ask that it be undone, or wish for a world without a golden girl named Rachel Green and a dovey-eyed boy to love her.

I was born loving you. Thank you. Thank you for being you.


	2. the masking dark

"And then Mr. Rosco told me I was the best student he'd had in three years," Monica boasted between bites of Judy's famous chicken casserole. It was a Sunday night family dinner at the Geller house, and Rachel Green had joined them like she often did. Jack and Judy had known Rachel as well as her parents for years and treated her like a second daughter.

Rachel giggled. "Gosh Monica, you sure are getting on all your teachers' good sides this year...like always!"

"Hey, I can't help it if I'm a genius."

Ross scoffed. "Genius? More like teacher's pet."

"Oh, like you're one to talk! You spend your lunch period hanging out with your science teacher. You may as well be dating him!"

"That is quite enough, you two," Jack said, annoyed. "Rachel, I think I'm going to ask your parents if they'd like to trade daughters. You could come live with us, and then I wouldn't have to listen to Ross and Monica fighting all the time."

"Hehe, Ross would like that," Monica said. She cast a playful, taunting look in Ross' direction. Ross blushed into his mashed potatoes and wanted to wring his sister's neck. He prayed Rachel wasn't watching, but she probably was since she was sitting directly across from him. And what did it matter anyway? She had to be well aware of what most people referred to as his "crush" on her. Or perhaps she just assumed that of every boy she ever encountered.

"You're in Mr. Rosco's class too, aren't you, Rachel?" Judy asked.

"Yes, but I'm not doing so well." She looked down at her plate and played with her food. Her face from this and every angle was so heartbreakingly doll-like and sweet. And when she spoke, her voice was as soft as a baby's first word.

"Don't worry about it, Rach," Monica said. "Rosco's class is tough."

"Not for you apparently."

Monica shrugged, "Yeah, well, history is my strong subject."

Rachel sighed, still looking down. "I have to keep my grades up to stay on the cheerleading squad. I'm just worried. I'm not good in school. iNone/i of my subjects are strong."

And there it was. That little bump in the Prom Queen's road. The imperfection and the struggles that made her human, just like any other kid in town. The straight-A students envied her life, and in a way she envied theirs. She looked up from her plate, and noticed the awkward silence that had risen to honor her little moment of wallowing. She locked eyes with Ross for an instant but they danced away. She shrugged everything off, and smiled like a camera was on her, the way she was supposed to. "Anyways, whatever, I just need to work a little harder."

The family nodded and offered little assurances. He wondered if she knew she was loved and respected in this house, and that she would never be turned away. Monica shifted the conversation to Mr. Rosco's atrocious comb-over, and the two friends shared giggles while Jack and Judy joined in.

Ross looked at her cleavage exposed by a low-cut sweater. It wasn't trying to flaunt itself or pollute the world with scandal and sin. It was just there, and it was just beautiful. It made him tingle and fidget in his chair. Like any teenage boy, he was owned and consumed and tortured by sex. He wondered if she was too. He knew she and her boyfriend Chip had reputations of being quite sexually active, and not necessarily with each other. Those weren't the kind of thoughts he welcomed, but yet he had to assume she'd rounded third base once or twice considering her status as a cheerleader. She was to be promiscuous and fast and experienced, and all things that go with the territory of being popular. What goes with the territory of being Ross Geller? Just the same old lovesick devotion to the same old girl, day in and day out. She was always breathing down his neck with her beauty. It wasn't her fault. She had emerged from the womb this way, and into this world to grace it.

"Ross?...Ross!"

He vaguely heard his name being called repeatedly and snapped out his blissful daze. "Huh?" he said dumbly. He looked around and saw everyone looking at him, with Monica smirking. Rachel was looking at him too. She knew were his eyes had just been fixed. Oh God. Oh no. Not me. I'm not that guy who's salivating for your flesh and using you like an object.

She cleared her throat awkwardly and her eyes danced away. Oh well. What did it matter to her anyway? She was used to existing in this world as a pleasure source, and feeding candy to the eyes of men.

Ross didn't have the means or the know-how to redeem himself from that awful moment. All was lost. He excused himself and went to the kitchen to clean his plate. I _am_ i that guy, he thought. At least as far as she knew. He went to his room to read comic books and watch TV. What more could he do? He started to cry. Oh well. Blow out the light. Goodnight.

I love you...I love you...I love you..

His senior year was brief and bittersweet. He wanted to stay and go. Say yes and say no. Go left and go right. Do wrong and do right.

And all the while, the seasons flew by as quickly as they'd come, and all of a sudden the snow had melted and a spring had bloomed. He'd been accepted to NYU and would be starting classes in the fall. He'd been dating Sandy Bergman for the past few months. They had a lot of fun together, and Ross adored the companionship. It made him come out of his shell a little bit more, and it was nice to live for a girl who reciprocated his love...well, no, it wasn't love. Not yet. But it was something. "Nice" was what it was. Yes, it was so damn NICE to have a girl, and to be had by her.

One day after school he was walking to his car with Sandy. They passed a chattering crowd of cheerleaders and jocks, Rachel among them of course. Sandy turned up her nose in disgust. "Ugh, would you look at those dumb sluts? They must have the IQ of a baboon. And why the hell are their skirts so short? You'd think it was summer already."

"Hey," Ross said. He looked offended by her harsh words and tone. Then he retracted and realized he probably shouldn't look _too_ offended.

"Sorry," she said. Sandy was a nice girl, but she was insecure at times, and often projected this on others. "Certain girls just annoy me. Especially that Rachel bitch."

Ross' ears perked at the sound of that wretched word. He was confused. Why was Rachel a bitch? What had she done to hurt anybody, let alone Sandy? She was so sweet to Monica, and his parents were always imminently charmed by the humble attitude she exuded any time she came to their house. But he let it slide, and decided not to prod this any further. In fact, showing any interest in the affairs of Rachel Green was a toxic move when walking hand-in-hand with your girlfriend.

"I'm hungry. Wanna get some pizza at Ray's?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure. Maybe your sister will be there."

"My sister will definitely be there. Most likely finishing off her fifth slice by now." They shared a chuckle as Ross graciously opened his car door for her. As he walked around to the driver's side he couldn't help but notice Rachel and Chip having a hot-headed quarrel by his car. That is, Chip was the hot-headed one drawing attention and being a public jerk, while Rachel was embarrassed and trying to keep things cool in the face of all her friends. Ross wondered what it was all about. Then again, he had no right or reason to wonder. It wasn't his business and never had been. And never would be. He turned away from it, and got into the car with his girlfriend. As he drove away, he eyed them through his rear-view mirror as they receded and dissolved into specks.

One night out of the blue, one thing led to another and he lost his virginity to Sandy. It was nice, and it was strange, and just as awkward as it was supposed to be. Afterwards they lay in his bed staring up at the ceiling in a somewhat reflective silence. He was glad for the darkness. There was something about this situation he just didn't want to see.

"Aren't you supposed to smoke a cigarette right about now?" Sandy jokingly asked.

"Uh, well I don't smoke. But you're welcome to."

"I'm just kidding, Ross," she said, trying to cut the awkward tension that had risen like a fog since their bodies separated. She closed the too-huge gap between them and laid her head on his chest. Ross put his arm around her and stroked her back. This felt nice. He was glad he had broken down his greatest sexual barrier tonight. And yes, he was glad he had done it with Sandy Bergman. They lay like that for several pleasant moments in the quiet aftermath.

Then Sandy noticed something on Ross' night table. She lifted her head and picked up a ripped photograph of a girl. She knew that girl. Everybody knew that girl. It was Rachel Green, smiling bright, in pearly white. The other half of the picture had been torn off, probably the face of Monica, leaving just a close-up of Rachel. The picture looked worn and tattered, like it had been held, and cherished, and...well, _used_ in some way.

Ross saw what she was looking at, and knew he was screwed. He fumbled for words in the dark, the redeeming words that could save the moment before it was lost. "I, uh...well..." He gave up, and waited for her to do the talking.

"Why do you have this?" she finally asked.

"I, um...it's my sister's." That was true. "She must've left it in here." That was not. Oh why was he opting for lies? What was the use? He sighed. There was no way out of this. He had to put up, or lose everything right then. "Look Sandy...I'll be honest. I used to have a crush on Rachel. She's my sister's friend, I've known her for years...but it's over now."

"What is over?"

Ross almost laughed at that. She was right. _What_ was over? Nothing had ever begun or ended with he and Rachel. But he couldn't really explain that to Sandy, now could he? "My crush. It's done. I don't even think about her anymore."

"Not even when you look at this picture?"

Ross chuckled. "Come on, Sandy, look at my night table, it's a mess. I don't know what the hell is over there, it's just a bunch of crap that's been there for years."

Sandy was not yet convinced, but looked as if she might be getting there. She looked at him, then at the picture. "Can I rip it?" she asked.

Luckily it was dark enough that she couldn't see the way his face dropped. He didn't like the sound of it. Ripping her face. Throwing the pieces of her into the trash. The gesture alarmed and disturbed him. But maybe it was a step he needed to take. He also needed to respect the wishes of the girl he'd just made love to. His drawn out silence was on the verge of revealing everything, but then finally he said, "Yes. Rip it. Burn it. Throw it away. I don't care."

Sandy took some personal delight in ripping Rachel Green's head off. Then she ripped her perfect body in half. Then she balled up the pieces and tossed them in the nearby trash can. She looked up at Ross, with one last request on her lips. "Will you take out the trash tonight?"

Her eyes cut into him like swords. They were fierce and determined to have their wishes carried out, with no exceptions. He nodded and whispered, "Yes."

"Thank you." He could feel her smile against his chest. "It just feels right. I'm not sure why...it just does."

And once again, he was glad for the masking dark.


	3. and then gone

Hey guys, hope you're enjoying the story so far. Love it or hate it, I'd really appreciate your reviews so that I'm more motivated to continue :) Anyways, here's the next chapter. Enjoy.

Prom was two days away, and Ross would be graduating soon as well. He had spent the day going shopping with Sandy for her dress and his tux. Connor and his girlfriend went along as well, and the foursome decided on whose car they would take and other details of the big night. Later on Ross and Sandy went to the drive-in movie and spent most of the time fooling around in the backseat. If you asked him what happened in "Sixteen Candles," he couldn't even tell you.

It was after midnight when he dropped her off at her house. He walked her to the door and kissed her goodnight. "I'm so excited for the prom," she said.

"Me too." And he genuinely was. A kid should go his prom, and he should cherish it, even if it sucks, even if it's not all it's cracked up to be (which it isn't), and he should forever remember his last night of being a dinosaur geek at stupid old Lincoln high school.

When he got home the downstairs was vacant and dark, except for a light in the kitchen which he assumed was Monica. He went up to his room and changed into boxers, yawning and ready to conk out in his bed. But his stomach was growling like mad, and he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until he ate something. He went downstairs to the kitchen expecting to walk in on Monica. Instead he saw the back of a golden head, and the tiny body of a golden girl sitting at the table. She was somewhat bowed as though in mourning, and he thought he heard her crying softly all by her lonesome.

His breath caught in his throat and he ducked out of the kitchen before she turned and saw him. Why was she here all alone? Where was Monica, her friend, or Chip, her boyfriend? But she wasn't alone now. He was here. And he couldn't go back upstairs and fall asleep knowing she was sad and lonely under his roof. He heard her let out a sob, and that was it. The only place to go was to her. He gathered up his courage and entered the kitchen again.

His bare feet padded on the tile floor. His upper body was bare too. She turned around, startled by his presence. The green of her eyes was reddened by the tears she'd shed. Her makeup was runny and ruined, and her face was drained and distressed. She looked bothered and confronted by him. Her eyes said, why are you here? I didn't come here looking for you. But that didn't make him leave her. He went to the sink and poured her a glass of water, just because he felt he needed to give her something. He HeWater is the cure-all and the offering you make when you've come empty handed.

"Hello," he said softly. He offered her the water, but she didn't take it. He set it on the table anyway.

She looked shy, and tried to stifle her tears. Surely not because she cared one way or the other what Ross thought of her, but no one wants a stranger to see them cry. Not that they were strangers. On the contrary, they were among each other's oldest acquaintances. "Where's Monica?" she asked in a hoarse and guarded tone.

"I'm sorry, I don't know." But he did know. She was out with Tommy, a guy she was hoping would ask her to the prom.

"Oh. All right...I'll just wait for her I guess." She turned her back to him again. He could leave now. Dismissed. You can't help me. But he had boldness in him still, and walked to the other side of the table and took a seat.

"Are you ok?" he asked in the gentlest of tones that came naturally to him now.

She fumbled with some balled-up tissues, refusing to look him in the eye. "Yeah...whatever...I'm fine." She sounded like it pained her to speak. Like there was a knife in her throat. Whatever it was, it pained him too.

He was waiting for her to see him as a friend. And if that didn't happen he would just go on trying. "Is um...I mean, did something happen?"

At that point she let out a great sob, and all her levies broke, and she collapsed forward with her head on the table. She cried and cried. Ross didn't know what to do.

"You can tell me...anything."

Those words consoled her. They were the words she wasn't used to hearing, especially coming from the mouth of a boy. She finally lifted her head and looked at him. She recognized him. She eased into him. She _saw_ him. She sat up in her chair and took a few jagged breaths. When she spoke her voice was small and squeaky and young and just on the verge of sobbing again. "It's my parents...and it's Chip."

And it's everything, isn't it, baby? It's all right. Dry your eyes, I'm here. I can be your daddy, or your teddy, or your crutch. Anything you need.

He had a feeling she'd go on if he let her. And she did. "I just...what do they all want? Nothing's ever good enough..."

"It's ok...it's ok." Then he thought he noticed a red gash on her cheek. But he looked away. He had to, or he'd get into this way too deep, and start having killer thoughts. Thoughts of breaking the hand that struck his beloved. So he focused on the other cheek that was clean and ungashed. "Rachel...are you all right? I mean really...are you all right?" It was the simplest and most direct thing you could ever ask of a person. And he was asking it of her, because no one ever asks it enough.

She looked into his eyes again. They were so warm and consoling and honest. All of a sudden she flinched, as if waking out of a trance, and got up from her chair. "I have to go. I-I can't talk about this, I'm sorry." She grabbed her purse and went to the door. She turned to look at him one last time. Her eyes said, forget it. I was never here. We never had this moment. Just let it die before it even lives.

But before leaving, she did utter him this: "Thank you...Ross...thank you." And then she was out the door, and then gone.

Ross sat at the table until three in the morning, staring at the ghost where she had sat before him and wept, wearing her soul on her face. He could still feel her there, her presence lingering. He soaked it all up until it was gone, and the air was cold.

When Monica came home from her date she was surprised to see her brother sitting there, his eyes glazed over in a strange emotional trance. She noticed Rachel's balled-up tissues on the table. "Who's are those?" she asked.

"Mine," he said. And he went upstairs to bed.

To be continued...


	4. 4 years later

Thanks to those who have reviewed so far! Please keep them coming!! The story is about to switch into 4th gear and pick up the pace. Also the chapters will be less and less wordy and more to the point, at least for a while. Just telling you so you don't think I'm getting lazy and cheating you out of quality chapters LOL.

Also, I understand the characters might not be 100 consistent with what they were on the show. However, in order to have quality fanfiction I think you need to go much deeper than the writers of a half-hour situation comedy were willing (or able) to go. Not to mention this is self-proclaimed FICTION, so I think us writers are given a relative freedom by default :) :)

One last thing: Perhaps this is a shot in the dark, but I'm really curious to know if writers such as Tina Chaves and Imagine What If are still out there reading fics? They seem to have stopped writing consistently in recent months/years and I wonder if that is due to a lack of interest, motivation, etc. Whatever the case, I would love you hear from you. And I'm sure I speak for everyone at this community when I say you are greatly missed.

Anyway, enough rambling and on with the show. Cheers.

**4 Years Later**

Ross heaved a weary sigh, slamming another box down on his bedroom floor. He was moving back home. Back to his Long Island birth home that is, after four years of living in various college shit-holes he barely settled into before moving elsewhere again and again. He had just finished his last grueling semester as an undergraduate student, and was looking forward to a long summer of relaxation before he started grad school in the fall. His room was still the same shrine to dinosaurs and youthful model airplanes and such. Oh well. For the most part he still felt like a boy, especially under this roof.

"Sweetie, was that the last box?"

He turned and saw his girlfriend Carol standing in the doorway. "Nope, there's still a couple more in the car. Why don't you just chill out up here while I go get them?"

"I won't argue with that!" she said, flopping down on Ross' bed. "Love the dinosaur sheets," she said, somewhat sarcastically.

"Hehe, I figured you would," he called over his shoulder. Carol had come to help him move in and to visit his parents for the weekend. Then she would be going home to Rochester for the summer where her mother had a job lined up. Ross wished she was staying in Long Island so she could help ward off Sandy Bergman who'd been stalking his poor soul since he'd broken up with her two years ago. Then again, he was looking forward to the breathing room a long-distance relationship would bring. They had shared an apartment for the past year, and this had both strained and strengthened their bond. But like any young couple, they needed to put some distance between them, and appreciate each other from afar. At least for now.

He grabbed the last two boxes out of the trunk with as much manpower as he could muster in the impossible heat. His eyes fell on the empty space in the driveway where Monica's car was normally parked. She was staying at college for the summer to do an internship in a restaurant. There would be no brother-sister warfare at the dinner table that summer. It would just be him living alone with his parents like an only child, for the first time since...well, since his own infancy. It was going to be interesting. Yes, a very interesting summer indeed.

The following Monday he drove Carol home to Rochester. They said their goodbyes, wishing each other well and promising to visit often and call daily. He spent the next two weeks lounging around the house, falling asleep in front of the TV, and basically living like the burned-out ambitionless zombie he'd been dying to be during the school year. It didn't last long though, and soon he began his summer job as a lifeguard at the local pool. He and his high school friend Connor spent their days broiling in the sun and checking out girls. They couldn't believe they got paid for it.

Ross and Carol each did their part to keep their courtship rolling. And in fact their relationship was oddly mature, even in its youth. One weekend Ross drove up to visit her, and they spent a lovely two days taking romantic walks, lounging in the hammock together, and spending time with her parents, among other things.

"Ross," she said softly. "I think I'm falling in love with you."

He heard this and smiled, gazing at the breathtaking sunset they were both enjoying. "I'm falling in love with you too, Carol. And I don't just think it. I know it."

She breathed a delighted sigh and let her head rest on his shoulder. "Does that scare you?" she asked with caution.

"Not at all. I've never been afraid of love."

"Never? Do you mean to say you've been in love before?"

"No...no, that's not what I meant. I just mean that the concept of love has never alarmed me. I've always been ready for it. I guess I was born ready for it, you could say."

Carol smiled. "That's good to hear. I was afraid that kooky Sandy Bergman had stolen your heart before I got the chance to."

Ross shook his head and chuckled. "No, not her. That wasn't love, not even close. There has only been you. You are my first love."

"Good...I want it that way."

Ross kissed her wispy blond hair. "So do I."

The young lovers leaned on each other and savored the last diminishing breaths of day, captured in the orange soda skies. It was so wonderful to be in love.

* * *

Dude. Red bikini. Ten o'clock. There is a God. Check out that body.

Ross vaguely heard these giddy utterances among Connor and the other male lifeguards. They had foregathered around the pool deck to watch a bronzed body of perfection walk as though on a runway, towel and tanning oil in hand. Ross recognized those naturally swiveling hips, and the sight of them had him frozen in his own ice age, unable to move or speak.

"Dude, Ross, it's your girl," said Connor.

It's your girl, Ross, it's your girl...

"Everybody knows who that is," said a lifeguard named Todd. "It's Rachel Green. She's back."

Back from where? Did she leave? How long was she gone?

And now she's back.

He hoped to God there was no one drowning underneath his nose. None of the lifeguards' eyes were on the water that day. Especially not Ross'.

Later that evening he was talking to Monica on the phone.

"To be honest, Rachel and I have sort of drifted apart over the past year. After she dropped out of college I saw her less and less. I do know she ran off to the city with that bimbo Mindy to try and get jobs there. So if you say she's back in Long Island then I guess that must not have worked out very well."

"No I guess not."

"Anyways, that's pretty much the extent of what I know. Now what I've heard is that she and Chip Matthews are getting back together.

"What, really?"

"Yeah. I don't know why she would go back with him though. It always sounded like he treated her pretty badly. But that's just the word on the street."

But Ross tended to stay off the streets and remained deaf to most of the words spoken among the mindless unknowing fools in this town.

"Well, what do you mean? How badly did he treat her? Did he ever hurt her?"

She sighed. "I don't know, Ross. I just...don't know."

Monica didn't find it odd that her brother was asking questions about Rachel, his boyhood obsession. She was however aware of the fact that he had a girlfriend, the one he adamantly pledged his love for when they last spoke. But she decided not to question the underlying substance of this conversation. They were brother and sister, after all. They could talk about anything without needing every rhyme and reason justified.

His end of the line had been silent for several moments. "Are you ok Ross?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. It's just...sad."

She understood what he meant. Her tone of voice softened and matched his. "Yes, I know. It saddens me too...and I miss her. She was...well, she's the best friend I've ever had. But what becomes of us when we go our separate ways? Our paths lead us to different places and we lose touch."

"Your paths can always lead you back together though."

"Yes, that's true...but right now I'm in Brooklyn and Rachel is somewhere else, doing God knows what with her life."

"But couldn't you just call her? Maybe she's at home right now. I mean, couldn't you just--"

"No, Ross. I can't. And I just won't. I'm not going to interject myself into her life. I don't have the energy...and I don't really know how to do it, to be honest. Can you understand that?"

"...Yeah...I understand." Where was this coming from? He was supposed to be riding a blissful cloud to heaven with his new love Carol. He'd been slowly phasing Rachel out of his head over the past few years since high school. He hadn't really noticed until he was so bluntly confronted by her presence today, that yes, it was possible to forget her, to seek beauty in new roses, to find love in other venues.

And it was possible because he'd taken for granted that Rachel would always be there, as Monica's oldest friend. But now what was happening? He didn't want his sister to bid Rachel goodbye and count her out as a constant figure her life. God, that broke his heart. And it downright scared him to death.

He said goodbye to Monica and turned off the lights. He wanted to put this strange and disarming day to bed. His phone rang, and he knew it was Carol calling to say goodnight. He jumped out of bed and ran away from it, into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. Water, water, rinse me clean, make me a new and better man.

A man. That's what he was now. There was no use regressing to boyhood, that was done. He had to move forward. He couldn't go back, not even to the sweet stuff, not to the memories of careless youth, not to the same old faces and the same old places. He returned to his bed and shifted and sweated for hours.

Long Island doesn't love me tonight.

God he shouldn't have come home for the summer. At least that's what he thought then.


	5. she comes and goes like no one can

Carol seemed emotionless and distant when they broke for air after a somewhat tedious love making session. Ross was sweating in the July heat, and felt uncomfortable in his skin. He had driven down to Rochester for the weekend, feeling as though their relationship had been lacking in the romance department lately. He wasn't really a candy and roses kind of guy. All he had to offer was himself. And lately Carol was acting as though that could never be enough to satisfy her needs.

Why did she tell me loved me then? Why don't I feel needed? Why am I over here shivering in this maddening heat because she acts so cold?

But he wanted to salvage and revive and keep it going, if he could. That was the reason he was here.

"Carol..."

"Yeah?"

"Do you want me here?"

"Yes, I do."

"...I don't believe you."

Carol sighed. "You won't believe me when I tell you yes. And you'd get mad at me if I told you no."

"I wouldn't be mad...I'd probably just leave."

She turned her head to look at him. "Then you should go."

Those words stung, and he wasn't sure why. He was sensitive and easily wounded. And he hated to feel unneeded. He had so much to give, and nobody wanted or welcomed his humble offerings of love and devotion. Everything was clashing, and nothing was right. These wretched emotions had him grabbing his clothes and running for the door.

Carol interpreted this as a gesture of pig-headed abandonment on Ross' part. She pulled the sheets tightly around her and maintained her relative hollowness. "Oh, and uh, Ross? Just so you know, my friend Susan is a better lover than you."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? He figured she was just taunting him and being cruel. "Don't treat me like that, Carol. Just stop." He sounded like a child. And he was.

The next thing he knew he was flying down the highway going home. He drove furiously like an arrow shot through the night. He felt all tangled up inside. That teenage beast of angst could still be awakened and disturbed. Yet at the same time, he felt nothing. Absolute numbness and nothing, didn't know, didn't care. He could've wrecked the car. Thank God he landed himself safely at home in his Long Island driveway.

He felt angered, like an agitated dog. It was an empowered and macho feeling he wasn't used to experiencing. That night he went out with Connor and the guys and got rip roaring drunk. He stumbled home in the wee hours of the morning, knocking over a lamp and passing out on the couch. When his mother found him like this she put a blanket over him, somewhat concerned about her son's recent behavior.

* * *

His hours at the pool rolled by at the speed snail, each day indistinguishable from the last, and all of it enlightened by the same Long Island sun. Even the girls grew monotonous, the same old bronze bimbos all scattered on the pool benches. His eyes could take a quick scan down the line and scratch off each and every one of them as someone who could interest or awaken him from his slump.

Every day the lifeguards did some sort of a rain dance in the name of Rachel Green, hoping she'd grace them with her bronze body of radiance in red. But she never showed. Ross figured she was too busy being abusively wined and dined by Chip Matthews or some other stud she deemed worthy.

Oh fuck it. Who knew what, or where, or why when it came to her. What did it matter to him? She was a million miles removed from him by now, and would likely step over his soul if she saw it lying cold on the streets. It was so ridiculous that she even occurred to him anymore. He longed for the summer to end, so he could immerse himself in his graduate studies and explore his passion for paleontology.

Well, that's a testament to how dry and empty your life is. When you're looking forward to _fossils_.

That night Ross had dinner with his parents. Afterwards, Jack and Judy headed off to the country club to meet some friends. Before going out the door, Judy told Ross to wash the dishes.

"Fine," he mumbled from the couch where he was lazily watching TV. He fell asleep watching a football game and forgot all about the dishes. About an hour later he was awakened by a knock on the back door. He was surprised this woke him since it was such a polite and gentle knock. He got off the couch and rubbed his groggy eyes as he heard the person knock again. Perhaps it was his sleepy daze skewing his mind, but for some reason he could sense this was one of those strange moments where you know there's something at the door that's going to shock and disarm you.

And it was. Her. It was her, there. There she was, she really was there. Was he dreaming?

"Um hi..."

She smiled. "Hi Ross...did I wake you?"

He was bed-headed and sloppy, so perhaps that smile was really a smirk of amusement.

"Um yeah...but, I mean, it's fine," he said, chuckling nervously.

"Well, I'm sorry to just show up at your door. I was actually just hoping Monica was home?"

This instantly reminded him of that night years ago when she'd come looking for Monica and got him instead. "No, I'm sorry she's not here. She hasn't been home all summer actually. She stayed at school for an internship."

She looked down at her hands. "Oh...oh, that's cool. I haven't seen her in a while. I just, ya know...wanted to talk to her. And...yeah. But whatever."

He remembered those ancient words, _you can tell me anything_. And here they were, alone together in the same place, and the offer still stood. "Well, I can give you her number if you want. I'm sure she'd love to hear from you."

Rachel looked up at him. Her eyes were grateful and appreciative. "Yeah ok. Thanks."

He suddenly became aware of the fact that she was still standing on his doorstep and not even inside the house. "Oh shit, do you like want to come inside?" he said, chuckling.

She giggled lightly. "Sure, why not."

"Sorry I'm still a little groggy." He held the door open while she entered his kitchen. He noticed the way her eyes danced around the room, looking comforted and grateful to be there. The Geller walls embraced her, and always had.

He wrote Monica's number on a napkin and handed it to her. "Here," he said. "And like I said, I'm sure she'd love to hear from you."

Rachel scoffed a little and looked uncertain. "I don't know about that."

Ross grew serious. "I mean it, Rachel. She loves you. She misses you...please call her."

She looked at him and chuckled, somewhat coldly. "Why do you care?"

Ross grew silent for a moment and took a step away from her. He didn't want to be this pitiful puppy dog waiting for the bones to be thrown. He gave a dry and disinterested shrug. "I guess I don't."

Rachel seemed to regret the attitude she'd copped. She fumbled with the napkin in her hand as an awkward silence arose. She turned and went for the door. "Well thanks for Monica's number," she said.

He didn't want this moment to end and die this way. It was horrible. He heard her car starting up in the driveway, and this had him on his toes bolting out the door after her before she could get away. "Rachel! Wait!"

She stopped and rolled down her window, looking surprised and vaguely amused. "Are you ok, Ross?"

He leaned on her car, panting out of breath. It was somewhat of a comical scene. But if he hadn't have acted on total irrational gut instinct he wouldn't have said what he was about to say.

"Will you go out with me? I mean, really, we should go out sometime and talk. Just, you know, talk, about stuff."

He wasn't asking her out. It didn't feel like a question. He could see it in her eyes, she was in dire need of something; he wanted to see if he could give it to her.

She looked at him with green eyes of intrigue. Maybe she felt sorry for him throwing his pitiful soul against her car, almost as if he wanted to be hit. Either way, he'd die if she said yes. Her radio had been blasting until now. She turned it down. "Sure...ok."

Ross didn't smile or make a move. He was too awe struck by this moment, and too deeply immersed in her little girl eyes.

"But there's just one thing."

"What's that?" he asked softly.

"If we go, you have to take me someplace far away...not because of...well, just because I'm sick of this town."

Ross nodded. He was sick of it too. "I'll take you anywhere," he said.

She nodded. "Ok then." She turned her radio back up. "Call me," she said, and she backed out of his driveway.

Ross watched her zoom off down the street in her hot little daddy's girl convertible. He stood in his front yard waving, even after she turned the corner and was out of his sight.


	6. a dollar for your insights

Hey guys, here's the next chapter. Thanks again to those reviewing, and please oh PLEASE keep them coming to I stay inspired to write this piece of crap, LOL

Also, I'm inclined to say this chapter is rated M, but I think that's a little absurd. I highly doubt there are any 9-year-olds roaming this community, so i don't think it will be any big deal to most of you :)

* * *

Dude. Get real. It's not even a date. It's just chillin', and it's hangin' out, and it's shootin' the breeze and playing catch-up with an old high school acquaintance, because Monica's not here and you're the next best thing.

Whatever it was, he didn't tell anybody about it. No, he didn't want to gloat about it over beers with the guys. He didn't want his mother saying good luck, and don't stay out too late. He didn't even tell Monica. He just wanted it for him. Yes, he wanted "it," whatever it was. And he wanted her, just like always.

He called her the same night he asked her out. He didn't care if that made him too eager, too desperate, too much of a rule breaker by the book of love. He just put everything into it because he truly had nothing to lose. He had never expected _anything_ from her. Not a smile, not a goddamn wink; he just went on giving everything to her and never demanding compensation for the wrath of agonies he'd suffered under in the past. Sure he'd envisioned her as his wife, his lover, the mother of his children. And yes, those visions were sweet.

But alas, he was just a fool over the moon for a girl. And just to know her was enough. To be around her was a heaven-bent act of God, an unprecedented blessing he never even thought to ask for because that was just too much it seemed for one man.

Just to know her was enough.

What was he even thinking when he pulled up to her house in a clean white shirt like some Saturday night stud saying "Hey baby, let's go for a ride." He hadn't really thought of what he'd say or do. It seemed that his other romantic affairs had been by-the-book and scripted, as though they were acted out in other bodies, beyond him, without him, working like the mechanisms of a grand tradition. But in this case there was a smooth and inborn momentum saying _go with it, go with it_, and unfolding gracefully on its own, as long as he surrendered and let go.

"Don't come to the door," she'd told him on the phone. "Daddy will give you a hard time."

So he showed up on time, and sat in the car until she came out wearing a breezy summer dress, swinging her purse, and looking lovely. "Hey dude," she said cheerfully as she got in the car.

"Hey dudette," he said, smiling.

He drove them the Hell out of Long Island, making sure to honor her only request. Rachel blasted the radio the whole ride there, so there were no awkward voids of silence he needed to fill. She sat with her arm out the window, playing with her hair, and bouncing to Madonna on the radio. She was a little more fidgety and erratic than the shy agreeable teenager he remembered her being. He thought she looked very, very young, with many juvenile, and almost infantile qualities in her features. She was like a baby.

Ross pulled into a classy yet hip-looking restaurant. He was loaded with cash after two months of lifeguarding, so money was no barrier. Would that impress her? He wasn't quite sure.

Ross hurried around to open her car door. He wasn't bold enough to touch her yet.

They sat outdoors on a patio overlooking the late evening sunset. "So uh, what've you been up to lately?" he asked.

"Well, I'm sure you've heard."

He looked at her sincerely. "No. I haven't." That was true. Whatever he'd heard, he didn't believe, or he disregarded it as though it were trashy rag-mag gossip.

She mostly looked down, stirring her straw around in her drink. "Well, this year was kind of a bust. Mindy had this stupid idea that we could go to New York and get jobs as models."

"That doesn't sound like a stupid idea," Ross said.

"Well, it was. We ended up just screwing around and going to clubs every night. Then my parents threatened to cut me off if I didn't come home...so then I came home...and here I am now."

And here you are now.

Ross remained quiet and let her do the talking. That seemed to work best. She always kept talking, when someone actually gave her the chance.

"Anyways, I still want to work in fashion someday, but...well, I stopped going to college last fall."

"Actually I did hear about that."

"Well you probably heard wrong. I didn't drop out...they kicked me out."

"Oh...because of grades?" he asked delicately.

"Yeah. That...and for partying too much, according to them."

"Hm...well, everybody parties in college."

"Yeah. Exactly. Except I feel like they came down harder on me because I'm this cheerleader girl, and everybody expects me to be perfect...but whatever, I probably just sound like a whiny brat making excuses. I guess I deserved it."

She looked up at him finally. "I just didn't know what to do, Ross. I just felt like I didn't even...know myself...or something like that."

Man, her eyes really struck him. He thought he heard the faintest trace of tears; inner tears, that is, that she'd been shedding for the longest time. He loved the way she said his name, Ross. She addressed him directly, because she knew he was there. He wasn't just anybody. She wasn't just talking to a wall.

Suddenly she became very aware of what she'd been saying, and how long she'd been going on like this. She smiled a little, shrugging off her emotions, and downplaying the intensity. She did this automatically, like a well-trained dog, because it was the way she'd been programmed to be.

"Shit, I'm being such a downer."

"It's no big deal."

"Hey, when on earth is our waiter gonna be back? Dude, I'm starving!"

And just like that, she regressed back into this bright-faced optimistic girl. Ross let her drive the boat, and didn't ask that she bare anymore of her soul than she was comfortable with at that point.

He pulled into her driveway after the long ride home. "Can I walk you to the door?" he asked.

She scrunched up her nose and shook her head. "Nah, daddy's probably watching out of his window. He'd pounce on you and give you the third degree."

"Well I don't mind. I'm not scared of your dad."

She looked at him, grinning. "You don't know him, do you?"

"Not really, no."

"Do yourself a favor and stay in the car."

"Fine, I'll take your word for it."

He had to let her go. But how to get her back again? Was this where it ended?

"Hey Rach, um, can I...well, I mean, can we hang out again sometime?" And as he said this, he noticed a familiar black sports car parked ahead of him in her driveway. It belonged to Chip Matthews, the infamous football stud. This made his spirits sink a little bit, but he hung on to his words and waited for her to respond.

"I don't know, Ross. Maybe. I just, I have a lot of stuff going on right now."

Like what? Screwing around with douche bags who aren't worth your time? It was official. He hated Chip Matthews.

"But hey, thanks for tonight. It was fun."

He nodded, and tried not to look as dejected as he felt. "Yeah, it was. I'll uh, I'll see you around."

She looked at him one last time before getting out of the car. There were traces of remorse in her eyes. She knew she was leaving him dry. But they both knew she had business elsewhere, and she had to go.

"Yeah, see ya," she said softly. And then she was out the door, and then gone.

He backed out of the driveway quickly, before she even reached her door. He felt the entire atmosphere rejecting him, and he wanted to get away. As he sped off down the road, he couldn't help but look in his rear-view mirror and see the vague dissolving image of she and Chip embracing on the doorstep. He was too far away to see what kind of embrace it was, whether she felt comfortable in it, or if it was something forced upon her. Whatever the case, it killed him. He never wanted to see it again.

* * *

He didn't hear from her for weeks after that. The days maintained their slow agonizing drag. He didn't know if it was Monday or Friday, and it didn't make much of a difference anyway. She never showed up at the pool. He was almost glad for that, because if she did she might bring Chip, and he would be stuck there in his lifeguard chair imprisoned to watch them carry on like lovers in his line of vision.

Many nights he spent beer drinking with Connor and the guys. They mostly sat around in someone's basement making crude and intoxicated jokes and fantasizing about women. One time Connor made a crack that involved Rachel Green being the town skank that had the guys rolling with laughter. Ross joined right in, too buzzed to even realize what he was laughing at.

But when he wasn't drinking, he was often confronted by a dry and lonely emptiness that didn't know what to do with itself. He spent many hours slumped in front of the TV watching some meaningless trash program that often put him to sleep, which he welcomed. One thing he did do was work out with his father's weights in the basement. He found the physical exertion and manpower to be therapeutic in some strange away. He often thought of Rachel while sweating and working his muscles raw. It was a somewhat erratic and irrational obsession, but it was at least _something_ to fill the void, and make his days less empty.

But when there were no other distractions, he found himself wanting her more desperately than ever before. It had evolved into something more animalistic and aggressive now. It wasn't a shy obsession, or a boyhood crush. It was something that riled him up and made him crazy.

Then again, a part of him wanted to throw everything he'd ever felt for her into a bonfire and watch it go up in flames before his eyes. Then he'd be a free man, wouldn't he? But free to do what, he didn't know.

God knew what would become of him if he carried on like this. Something had to give. And funnily enough, it did.

He had just come home from a long day at the pool. He was heat-stricken and drowsy and starving as usual. He stood shirtless at the refrigerator, looking for food, and also relishing the coldness against his sunburned body. And when he closed the refrigerator door, she was there.

Simple as that. He didn't know she was coming, and he hadn't heard her come in. She was just there, by the door, looking right at him. She wore her bikini and shorts as though she had come from the pool, just like him.

Ross didn't say a goddamn word. He didn't _have_ a goddamn word to say.

"I looked for you at the pool," she said softly.

"I left," he said.

"Yeah..."

He looked into her eyes and he could see she needed something. She had come here for a purpose. This time, unlike any other time before, she had come looking for him.

He began taking slow steps toward her, closing the too-huge gap between them. He was arrow-shooting her with his penetrating and deep eyes that weren't fooling around or biding time. "What's the matter, Rach?" he said deeply, his voice just above a whisper.

She swallowed, somewhat disarmed by his boldness. "I'm just, I had a bad day. I don't...I can't..."

She quit trying to explain, and didn't have the time to before Ross took her face in his hands and kissed her, gently but deeply. He kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then her lips again. He opened his arms, and she gratefully leaned into his warm, consoling embrace. He felt so huge to her. She felt so small to him.

When she spoke again, she was speaking through tears. "Chip got mad at me because I wouldn't go to his stupid college for the weekend. My parents think he's a saint. Now they're mad at me too because I said no...but I don't want to go." She sniveled and let go a sob. "I don't want to go..."

He stroked her hair and back, tenderly, defensively, like she was his child. "You don't have to go anywhere...you don't have to do anything you don't want to do...you can go whatever you want."

Her sobbing subsided and she grew calmer. "I know...that's why I came here."

Somehow they ended up in his room. He took her there, and she followed. She wanted to be where he was, to go where he went. Their kisses grew more intense, and before long he was removing her clothes and kissing her all over her face as he continued to whisper these tender, sincere utterances in her ear. "I can treat you better than him...I can give you everything you need...you can tell me anything...I would never hurt you...I just want to make you feel good..."

She didn't say anything. But whenever he looked at her eyes they were deep in a serious and blissful trance, and she never asked him to stop. She had come at a time when he was dazed and impulsive and a little bit out of his mind. Things were too gentle and shy among them until now. It aggravated him. Things needed to be advanced. He was too hot and insane for logic. He wanted to give everything to her. He wanted to make her feel something, not just for him, but for herself.

"Mmm," she uttered softly before looking deeply into his eyes.

Eventually they ended up on his bed, on his dinosaur sheets, with his science fair trophies on a shelf above their heads. "I'm on birth control," she said between her jagged breaths.

"Good, because I don't have a--"

She pulled him into a passionate tongue-warring kiss. He spoke no more. His large hands roamed her flesh with a slow masculine tenderness, not so hurried and urgent like one would assume. He couldn't believe how beautiful her body was. She was so small, yet so blessed with feminine curves. Every inch of her was bronzed, with an infantile smoothness, like silk.

When both were naked and ready, he sank into the star-seeing and blacked out cradle of bliss between her thighs. He now knew he'd been a virgin until that day. And he was shocked by the mutual passion between them; and that was good, because he was worried this was all too rushed and impersonal...but on second thought he didn't worry about a thing, and just let his all heartfelt emotions explode into her, and he knew that was enough to satisfy ten women, but he was only offering it to her.

When it was over they both cried out, and he was sorry, but he couldn't move or detach himself from her just yet. He was still in a daze and didn't know what he'd just done, or if this would still be within his grasp once he let go. So he just rested his head on her deeply breathing chest and felt so cradled and safe and right with the world.

...And even more so when he felt her tenderly stroking his hair.


	7. i missed you

They had been seeing each other for the past week. Their encounters usually consisted of Ross calling Rachel as soon as he got home from work, then taking a quick but thorough shower before she arrived at his house shortly after. They spent the next couple of hours in his bedroom, their skin sticking to each other in the August heat. Rachel made sure to be out of the house by seven before Jack and Judy got home from work.

Of course he was allowed to have girls over, and even girls in room by now. He was an adult after all. It's just that Rachel was a very _specific_ girl whom nobody expected would be fooling around with the likes of Ross. And that was fine. Neither of them wanted anybody to know, and for many reasons. For now it felt secretive, mischievous, as well as _very_ sexy.

And it was strange to know each other in this way. Physically, they had already conquered all levels of intimacy in their short saga as lovers. There was a very natural and innate comfort zone present right from the start, based on the fact that they had known each other for years. The Geller house had been her second home when she was a teen; it was a warm and comforting place, and she associated it with countless happy memories to cherish. This was the reason she had come back to it, after going away and losing touch for a time. It was something she couldn't let go of.

And Ross was so happy to be there for her. With loving intuition, he could always sense there was something incomplete and unfulfilled within her own family life. The way she lingered at the Geller house like a stray cat, never too eager to return home. In her high school days, her cheerleader status certainly didn't warrant her hanging out with the likes of Monica, a chubby unpopular nerd so low on the social scale. But Rachel had always saved room for her oldest and dearest friend, never caring what anybody had to say against it.

So perhaps it wasn't such a far-out stretch of the imagination that she would wind up here, seeking comfort in Ross' arms, even when she could have all the high-profile jocks bowing at her feet if she wanted.

And he had faith in himself that he was as good a man as any, if not better. Maybe he had something in here that she could never find out there, out of all the places she'd been. Perhaps this was blind faith, and jumping the gun, and overstating the meaning of this rashly sexual affair. But screw it. He didn't want it any other way.

"Hey that's not fair!" Rachel protested after Ross changed the channel from a fashion program to one about dinosaurs.

"It's my TV, isn't it?" he said playfully.

Rachel scowled and mocked falling asleep from the dullness of the program.

"Oh come on, it's not that boring. Do you think I want to watch a show about fashion when all I wear is t-shirts?"

"No I guess not...but still, uuuggghh! It's so boring, I feel like I'm in school."

Ross chuckled at her playful aggravation with him. He loved teasing her, especially when she got all flustered. "Better not fall asleep, young lady," he said in a mock teacher voice. "Or there are going to be consequences."

"Oh yeah, like what?"

"Well, first I just want to check and see if you're ticklish."

Rachel's girlish squeals when he came at her confirmed that yes, she was, very ticklish indeed. Ross let his relentless fingers dance all over her stomach, neck, arms, pretty much any spot on her body was sensitive to the monster's touch.

"Ah Ross!...stop...I can't...breath!"

"Are you ticklish Rachel? Are you?"

In her defenseless position, she jerked her leg up by accident and kicked him in the nose.

"Ah crap!" he said. He stopped tickling her and put a hand over his face.

"Aww I'm sorry," she said, still breathless, but sounding genuinely concerned.

Ross smiled. "I think I'll survive."

"Well you kinda deserved it. I might've passed out if you had tickled me any harder."

"It's ok, I'm a lifeguard. I would've saved you."

The cuteness of that little quip made her giggle. "You're so funny, Geller."

"Yeah, I know. I should go to clown college."

She shook her head. "No you shouldn't." Then her tone grew a bit more serious. "Can we go upstairs now?"

He smiled and kissed her cheek affectionately. "Anything you want."

Later that evening Rachel came home to her bedroom. Her hair was messy and her body underneath her clothes was sticky with sweat. She needed clean up before going out with her friends that night. Even though a part of her liked the sexy feeling of being dirtied with Ross' sweat mixed with her own, she knew it would be highly inappropriate to go out with her boyfriend Chip this way. It would be like taking Ross along with her...

But maybe that's just the kind of girl I am, she thought somewhat naughtily to herself.

As she changed into her bathrobe and headed for the shower, the phone next to her bed rang.

"Hello?"

"Um, hey Rach. It's Monica."

The sound of her old friend's voice put an irrepressible smile on her face. "Monica, hi. How are you?"

"I'm good. How have you been?"

"Pretty good. It's great to hear from you."

"Yeah, well I know we've lost touch lately, but...well, I've missed you."

"Oh I've missed you too, Mon. A lot. In fact, a while ago I went to your house hoping you were there. Your brother told me you were gone for the summer."

"You saw Ross? He didn't tell me that." She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Typical of that loser."

"Hehe, yeah."

"Well anyways. I just don't want us to completely drift apart just for stupid reasons. I still...well, I still think of you as my best friend. I don't want to lose you."

Rachel was so happy to hear Monica's voice, and those words. "I don't want to lose you either, Mon. You've always been there for me. I'm so glad you called."

"Well good. I was afraid you might...well, I just wasn't sure of how you'd react."

Rachel chuckled. "It's funny, I felt the same way. I wasn't sure if you'd want to hear from me, or what you'd be doing."

"You can always call me, Rach...always."

"Thanks. Same here. And hey, are you coming home anytime soon?"

"I want to. I haven't seen my parents in ages. And I'm dying to hang out with you and have a girly sleepover like the old days."

Rachel smiled. "Well, come home soon, ok?"

"I will. I promise. And hey, if you miss me that much you can always go hang out with my doofus brother."

Rachel made sure to laugh as hard as Monica did at that.

"Well I should get going. I have some work to do tonight. I'll call you tomorrow, ok?"

"Ok Mon. I love you."

"I love you too, Rach. Bye."

"Bye." Rachel hung up the phone, the very same smile still illuminating her face. She was so happy to be reunited with the Gellers. She felt so embraced and eternally welcome in their home. And to think, Monica had no idea how close she had gotten to her "doofus brother" while she was away. But that was one secret she couldn't share with her closest girlfriend just yet. And for all she knew, it might never be shared with anyone

* * *

Meanwhile Ross was at home cleaning up and rearranging some things in his room. It still reeked of boyhood, and a rather nerdy boyhood for that matter. He was tired of it. He wanted change.

He gathered his toy dinosaurs off a shelf and put them into a box. He did the same with a model airplane that hung from the ceiling above his bed. Oh, and those science fair trophies from ninth grade, those _had_ to go. When he went to strip his bed of his dinosaur sheets he noticed they smelled like Rachel's perfume. He inhaled deeply, relishing the sexy intoxicating scent. This is ridiculous, he thought. My bed smells like a woman, but looks like it belongs to a ten year old.

He stripped the bed naked. He would change its clothes and dress it up in something more mature and reminiscent of the grown man he was.

There was a knock at his open door. "Ross what are you doing?" asked Judy.

"Uh nothing, Mom. Just cleaning up."

Oh I see." She noticed his balled up dinosaur sheets on the floor. "Do you want me to wash those for you?"

"No, no," he said urgently. He didn't want his mother smelling Rachel's perfume on his sheets. "No it's ok. I'll do it myself. Thanks."

Judy looked a tad perplexed but didn't prod it any further. "Well anyways, dinner's ready. Come set the table, please."

"Ok. I'll be right there."

Oh, but he was still a boy in so many ways...

* * *

One evening after they'd been together, he remained on top of her resting his head on her chest, like he usually did.

"Am I too heavy?" he asked.

"A little. But I like it."

He smiled, and kissed the pearly beads of sweat off her skin. "How was your day today?"

"It was ok. I went shopping at Macy's."

"Did you bring me anything?" he asked jokingly.

"Me." She said that so cutely.

He smiled and looked up at her. "Thanks, that's just what I wanted."

She smiled too and tousled his messy hair. "So what about you? How was your day?"

"Eh. Same old day at the pool. Pretty boring."

"Hmmm," she sighed.

"I wish you would've stopped by."

She hesitated before saying, "Chip doesn't like me going there. He says there's too many horny guys looking to pick up chicks...he's just jealous."

Chip Matthews, jealous? Ross had to admit, that excited him for some reason.

He proceeded to ask his next question with caution. "So, um...what _does_ Chip let you do?"

When she didn't answer right away he realized he was stepping into a territory that wasn't his to question or instigate. If he wanted to be with her, fine, but he couldn't stake any claims on her personal life when she was out of his house and not in his arms. Perhaps that was unfair, but he just wanted her too badly to prod things any further and possibly scare her away.

"I'm sorry...you don't have to answer that."

"Well, since you're obviously interested to know..." her voice had a trace of hostility in it, which he knew he had provoked. "Chip 'lets' me go out with my friends. He 'lets' me go shopping if I want. He 'lets' me eat, and sleep, watch TV, and--"

"Rach..." he cut her off. He was propped up on his elbows now, looking at her. "Really, I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about this."

Her momentary coldness softened, and he was relieved.

"Ok."

He suddenly felt very uncomfortable in his daunting position on top of her. He felt like he should be the man, and be the one she rested on, whether she wanted it that way or not. "Here, I want to switch places. I want to hold you."

"You are," she said.

"Yes, but the other way around."

She agreed. "Well ok. I'm getting hot anyway."

Ross rolled off of her, and she on top of him. He joked with her a little bit to lighten the mood. "Oh wait, on second thought, you're too heavy for me."

"What?"

"I'm serious, I can't bear your weight. You're going to give me internal organ damage. What do you weigh, like twelve pounds?"

She was giggling. Mission accomplished. "Something like that."

They both lapsed into a tired, content silence. Rachel played with his chest hair, looking thoughtful. "So uh, I talked to Monica last night."

"Oh really? That's nice."

"Yeah. I was so glad to hear from her."

"Did you tell her...about us?" He asked that question somewhat foolishly, already knowing the obvious answer.

"No, I didn't." She looked up at him. "Have you told anyone?"

He shook his head. "Not a soul.

She her settled her head back on his chest. "You were right by the way."

"About what?"

"That time I came here looking for Monica. When you gave me her number you said she'd love to hear from me...I didn't really believe you for some reason...but you were right."

Ross kissed the top of her head and stroked her feathery hair. "I don't really care about being right. I'm just glad you two are talking again. I know how much you mean to Monica, and how much she means to you."

Comments like this, while sweet, were somewhat disarming to Rachel. Sometimes Ross spoke with such a passion and consideration for her own well-being. She knew he was attracted to her in the physical sense, but did he really give two shits about her life outside his bedroom? Strange as it may sound, she had never had a guy say things of the "I know how much she means to you" nature.

And even she could admit, these feelings were a little over her head and perhaps too intensely mature for her at her youthful age.

...But it still felt nice

* * *

**Eh, mindless fluff...a.k.a. the calm before the storm ;)**


	8. just between us

**Hey guys, sorry for the lack of updates. This chapter is a long one so I hope that makes up for it! Keep the reviews comin'!! )**

"Ross, Ross, you're never gonna guess what I just heard!"

It was Connor running up to him excitedly while he was leaving work one afternoon.

"Let me guess: Pluto is no longer a planet?"

Connor shook his head. "As far as I know, it still is. No seriously, dude, I was just talking to Mark Price. You remember his sister, don't you?"

"Mandy Price? Uh yeah, sort of. Wasn't she in the marching band with Monica?"

"Yeah, that's her. She graduated early from Columbia and now she's back in town. And according to Mark, she's got the hots for you."

Ross made a puzzled face. "Huh? Why?"

"Shit, you got me. Maybe it's because you're a lifeguard. It's a great way to score with chicks."

"You've certainly proved that," Ross said sarcastically.

"Anyways, Mark gave me her number to give to you." He handed Ross a piece of paper. Ross took it, somewhat reluctantly. "I think you should go for it, man. From what I hear she's lost a lot of weight since high school. And she was always one of those girls who you could tell _would_ be hot if she weren't such a cow. Kinda like your sister, hehe."

Ross shot him a look, getting a little tired of his crude and immature frat boy humor. He then looked down at the piece of paper in his hand. "Well I doubt I'll be calling her, but thanks for passing on the message."

"Dude, are you out of your mind? She _wants_ you, dude. Hell, she's probably looking for any guy to screw around with. If you don't call her, I will."

"Ya know what? Go for it." He handed the piece of paper to Connor.

Connor looked at him warily, not satisfied with Ross' elusive distance. "What's with you, Ross? You're like in a funk lately. You haven't partied with us in weeks."

Ross shrugged, looking down at a pebble he'd been kicking around on the pavement. "Yeah I know. It's just...stuff. It's no big deal."

Then something occurred to Connor and he grinned. "Hey, I know what it is. It's because the Prom Queen's back in town, isn't it? Dude, you gotta let that go. She doesn't give a shit about you and she never will. You gotta lower standards to girls like Mandy Price--girls who actually _want_ your nerdy ass." He laughed. "Shit, I've been telling you this since high school. I sound like a broken record."

"You sure do."

"Yeah, well it's about time you listen to me, dumbass. I'm just telling you this for your own good."

Ross jangled his keys in his hand and went to unlock his car door.

"Connor?"

"Yeah?"

"Fuck off." He got in his car and zoomed off with a cool kind of dust-kicking and hotshot speed. The summer was coming to an end. This would be one of the last times he ever spoke to his old high school track buddy.

* * *

"I can't come over," she told him when he called.

"Why not?"

"My whole family is going out on my parents' boat tonight. It's sort of an 'end of the summer' tradition."

"Oh, I see," he said, disappointment the color of his tone.

"I'm sorry. Call me tomorrow, ok?"

"I will. Have fun."

"Thanks. Bye."

"Bye." He hung up the phone. Dammit, he wanted to see her tonight. He had come to rely on their brief, yet cherished encounters in the evening heat to make his mornings worth rising for. It was hard to remember _not_ being able to touch her and hold her vulnerable ragdoll body close. That part of his life now seemed like a long monotonous preamble to their glorious affair.

Oh well. Perhaps this one night of breathing room was needed. He didn't want to smother her, or overkill the passion, or God forbid...something worse than that. But no, it never occurred to him that this could end; he wouldn't let it. He suppressed all toxic thoughts with the will of an iron man, and went on relishing the sweet delusions that all was eternal.

That night he had dinner with his parents and watched a baseball game with his dad. Later on, after his parents had gone to sleep, he was a reading in his room when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

All he heard was a sob, emitted from Rachel like flood waters busting through a levy. It had him sitting upright in his bed with his book flopping to the floor.

"Rachel? What's wrong?"

He heard her gasping through tears, words not coming easily to her. "Ross..."

"What's the matter? Did something happen?"

"It's m-my parents." That was about all she could get out before convulsing into sobs that made everything on her end of the line an inaudible mess.

Whatever it was, he knew she couldn't articulate it over the phone. "Rach, let me come over. Let me see you, so we can talk."

She sniffed and gasped and composed herself the best she could. "Yeah. Ok. Just c-come to my house and I'll be waiting f-for you."

He didn't know what exactly this would entail, but it didn't matter. He told her he would be right there. As soon as he hung up the phone he put his shoes on and left the house, not really giving a damn if he woke his parents in the process.

When he pulled up to her house he was surprised to see her standing in the driveway, a distressed damsel waiting on her getaway man. He assumed she didn't want him pulling in or getting out or coming inside. So he just slowed to a stop so she could get in, and drove off down the street with her in the passenger's seat.

"Thank you," she said. "Oh God, thank you. I just had to get out of there."

"No problem. Where should I go?"

"I don't care...you can stop the car if you want."

This he did. He pulled over on a dead end street and turned off the ignition. They sat there in the peaceful moonbeam night. Her breath was heavy, but her crying had been soothed.

"Can I ask what's wrong?"

"Yes..."

"...What's wrong?" He just remained in the driver's seat looking straight ahead and waiting for her voice to narrate the darkness.

"Well we went out on the stupid boat and my parents had a fight. A _huge_ fight. It's never been this bad. I mean it, Ross, they were just so...so _hateful_ to each other."

"What did they say?" he asked delicately.

She sat there shaking her in a kind of sad disillusionment with everything. "It doesn't matter. All I can remember is the way they said it...it's like they hate each other. My dad doesn't respect my mom at all."

That last statement seemed to resurface the tears she'd dried a few minutes earlier. Ross turned to look at her. In the moonlight he could see she was wearing a small cardigan over a summer dress and her makeup was runny and ruined. She looked like she needed a world of love and a universe of genuine comfort.

"I'm so sorry, Rachel. I'm sure it must be horrible to see your parents acting that way."

"You and Monica are so lucky. You have real parents who actually care about each other and can get through a goddamn family gathering without ruining it."

He knew she didn't mean to sound as pitiable and vindictive as she did. Sometimes it just comes out that way when baring the rawness of your soul.

"It's true. I am lucky," he said honestly, and with humility. "But that doesn't make my parents anymore 'real' than yours. Everybody has their own reality. There's no 'one way' that things are supposed to be...honestly, some things are just fucked, and it's ok to wallow and be sad about it if you need to."

She was sitting in a shadow but her eyes were like the jeweled windows he could look into any time.

Rachel got the sudden urge to lean over kiss him. And this she did, and Ross was happy to oblige, savoring the glossy candy-like sweetness of her lips. He really was an amazing kisser. And she really was becoming so very attracted to him. He was her friend, but he was her lover as well. So far he appeared to be an expert in both fields.

When their lips parted she took a few soft and jagged breaths and said, "Ross...can we get out of the car?"

"Sure."

Both got out of their respective doors. They rounded the car towards each other and as soon as they met Rachel threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. Ross was caught a little off guard but he was glad to return the affection, enveloping her tiny frame until she was almost lost in his huge embrace. He could smell the fragrant garden that was her natural scent. Every time he touched her it felt like the first time. And he still couldn't believe he was actually doing it, and that she was willingly running into his arms to feel the warmth of his embrace.

"Rach...can I tell you something?"

"Yes."

"Whatever happens between us...wherever we are in life, you can always call me and tell me anything. Just like tonight."

She seemed touched by that, and he felt her delicate arms tighten around his waist. "We're not always going to live five minutes away from each other, you know."

"Yes, I know. I know our circumstances will eventually change, and we'll go our separate ways...but it doesn't matter. In some way or another, I will always be there for you...you can count on that."

He heard her sniff, her head buried in his chest. She was crying the same tears she'd been drying again and again all night long; only this time they were tears of warmth, shed for the sensation of feeling so secure and cherished in a man's arms.

"Oh Ross, why are you so nice to me? I don't understand...I'm just a stupid girl." She was so young then. So scatterbrained and unlearned. It wasn't her fault. But these emotions were too huge, and too deep to fully grasp with her girlish intuition. She didn't yet know how to match his intensity, and to offer the same in return.

Ross could see this, and he knew it was beyond him to do any more than he already had. There was no way for him to age her youthful soul or spoonfeed her any wisdom at this point. And it was under these circumstances that he still found it effortless to say:

"Rachel, you're perfect. Everything about you is perfect...everything."

"Ross, come on, stop," she said through tears. It was a distressed kind of begging.

"Rachel, I mean it, you--"

"Just stop it!!" she almost screamed. She broke away from him and walked away, her back turned.

She had no concept of what he'd meant by "perfect." It was a tired word overused on girls like Rachel with a million dollar smile and the all-around "look" of a Malibu Barbie. It was must've been so strange to be Rachel Green. At times she probably wished she were ugly; to be outcasted and free; to slip under the radar as another average Jane in this world.

Ross followed after her, but not too urgently; he kept his distance and let her breathe. Her back was turned to him and she was leaning against the bumper of his car, hugging herself and looking to the moon.

"Rach, I'm sorry. I was just trying to...I don't know, make you feel better." He remained several feet away from her and didn't go closer. She seemed to appreciate him not imposing himself on her, demanding that they "talk this out" and resolve everything right then...and at the same time, she looked so lonely over there.

"It's ok," she said somewhat flatly, but not as upset as before. She turned to look at him. "Can you just take me home now?"

He nodded. "Sure."

And again, there was no way that he could word things correctly, or do or say enough at that point. As for what he'd meant by "perfect," well, he'd meant _everything_, simple as that. The way she looked was perfect. Her mistakes were perfect. Her pain was perfect. Even her lies rang true in his ears...and perfect.

On that night he felt a sadness he didn't know what to do with. He felt like she was already lost. He was miles away from having her in his eternity, like he'd always dreamed.

When he pulled into her driveway she was ready to get out of the car and go inside with hardly a goodbye.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked. He figured he had nothing to lose.

"Nope." And the way she said it was simple and sweet and unburdened, like a child.

He believed her. He'd call her tomorrow and everything would be all right. He blasted the radio and zoomed all the way home.

* * *

To Ross' great delight, the following day was hit with a beastly thunderstorm and the pool was closed. He slept in late and watched TV until the mid-afternoon. Then he picked up the phone and called Rachel, on the off-chance that she would be home at this hour of day.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Hey."

"Hi...pool's closed?"

"Yeah."

"I figured it would be

"Yeah. Lifeguards love thunderstorms. It's pretty much a guaranteed day off work."

She chuckled.

"So uh, what are you up to today?"

"Nothing much...my parents are out of town."

"Oh...that's cool."

"Do you wanna come over?"

"Um, yes."

She chuckled at the blunt urgency with which he'd said this. He chuckled too; he didn't care.

"Good. Come over...soon."

He came sooner than soon. He was drenched from the rain when she let him in the door.

"Woah, you're soaked. Let me get you a towel."

He had never been inside her house before. It was beautiful, bigger than his, and practically a mansion. The atmosphere was one of royalty, and just reeked of wealth in general. It excited him to be there, inside the house where she'd grown up.

She returned from the bathroom holding a towel. "Here," she said.

"Thanks." He dried his hair and face. His clothes were still soaked.

"Do you like want another shirt?"

"I don't think we wear the same size," he joked.

She rolled her eyes and turned to go upstairs. "No seriously, I'll get you one of my dad's, or--"

Before she could finish he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a kiss. She was caught off guard, but returned it gladly. "You're soaked," she said with her lips half glued to his.

Hearing this, he broke the kiss and took a step back from her.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Sorry, it's just you don't look like you need to be kissed."

"I don't?"

"Nope. You look like you need to be hugged!" He came at her with his arms opened wide. She shrieked and tried to get away, but didn't stand a chance. Ross caught her up in a huge embrace and hugged her to his soaking wet body.

"Rooosss!!" she protested.

"Sorry, can't get away now." Giddily he noticed she was wearing a white shirt that would provide him with quite a view when he was through with her. She kept on protesting with girlish shrieks, but he knew she liked it, and so did he; that is until he felt a sharp pinch on the tender flesh of his bicep.

"Owww!" he groaned, the pain forcing him to release her from his grasp. "Geez, you're violent today."

"Yeah well, it was self-defense. You were about to ruin my new shirt."

"That's fair enough," he said, walking towards while rubbing his reddened arm. Man those little feminine pincher fingers with their long manicured nails could really do a number on a guy. He'd have to remember that for future reference. "So since I ruined your shirt...you may as well just take it off."

Her lips curled upwards into a mischievous grin. "Not so fast, Geller. Is that the only reason you came over here, to see me take off my clothes?"

"Hey now, I was invited over--by you."

"Yeah, but you called me."

"Yeah, but..." Ross trailed off, and digressed with a smile of amusement. "Ok, I got nothin'. You win."

Rachel smiled adorably, coking her head to the side. "Hmmm. You're cute."

"Oh my God, stop it," Ross said in a high-pitched girly voice, teasing her about last night, and all in good humor of course.

She knew what he was referring to and tried to suppress a somewhat bashful smile. "You're not very funny, though."

He shrugged. "Eh, that's ok. There isn't much demand for comedy in the paleontology field."

She cocked her head a little more, looking thoughtful. "Can I ask you a dumb question?"

"Sure."

"What exactly _is_ paleontology?"

Ross chuckled, only because he'd been asked that question countless times before. "Well, basically it's dinosaur...stuff. Ya know, research, fossils, history...a lot of people find it lame, but I think it's interesting."

"Hm. That's ok. A lot of people think fashion is lame."

"Well, probably not as many who fall asleep anytime I talk about science, or...well, most of the things I'm interested in."

They had unknowingly delved into a territory of significant depth; what their passions were, and how they ranked in society. Ross had little to offer the "in-crowd" and his scholarly ambitions often left him marching to the beat of his own solitary drum. But he was always going somewhere; he was always taking steps forward on the path. Rachel on the other hand seemed to lack direction. She had regressed somewhat since high school. Maybe she just lacked the confidence and the know-how to shoot beyond the stars of superficiality she was accustomed to. Whatever the case, he didn't foresee her cutting up her father's credit cards anytime soon...but he tried not to dwell on thoughts of that nature.

"Wanna come up to my room?" she asked, heading for the stairs.

Good lord, in his teenage mind Rachel Green's bedroom resided somewhere beyond the pearly gates of heaven. And there she was waving a come hither hand and inviting him in.

"Um, sure," he said, doing his best to conceal his excitement. At times he knew he had to rehearse things in his mind before he did them, making sure to downplay the intensity of what he was _really_ feeling in her presence.

"Come on," she said.

As he followed her up the stairs his eyes scanned numerous family photographs that were elegantly framed on the wall. He picked her childhood face out of many. He had known her when she was that young. She looked exactly the same, just a smaller and less developed version of what she was today.

Her bedroom was...well, a bedroom. It was typical, regular, with perhaps slightly more feminine frills than his sister's room. It was girly all over, and _very_ disorganized and cluttered. He almost chuckled remembering Monica attempting to lecture her about the merits of a clean and tidy room. "You should organize your nail polish bottles by color, shape, and size," she'd said. Rachel apparently hadn't followed the friendly advice, or perhaps it was just beyond her to care about perfecting a room that only she and a select few people would ever see.

"I like your room."

"Thanks. Sorry it's such a mess."

He didn't mind. He found it cute and quirky. And the sight of her random garments, both intimate and otherwise, carelessly strewn about the room was enough to make him...well, let's just say it excited him almost to the point of embarrassment.

Rachel flopped down on her bed, looking up at the ceiling. "Oh shit. I forgot my shirt was still wet." She sat back up.

Ross certainly hadn't forgotten. It was hard to overlook the near-transparence of the thin white fabric revealing a lacey bra underneath.

"Yeah, sorry about that..."

Rachel saw where his hungry eyes were fixed, and grinned. He didn't care. She knew she was beautiful, and that he thought so. She stood up, facing him, and he couldn't believe what she did next.

"Here," she said. She held her arms up in an awkward, somewhat vulnerable position.

"What?"

"My shirt...you take it off."

Her eyes had become so bedroom-like and playful, he almost lost it; whatever "it" was, he didn't know, but just the unbelievable fire and giddiness that her enticements always provoked in him. He took it like a man though, and approached her with confidence. With steady hands, he slowly lifted the wet material up, up, and up, keeping his eyes locked on hers, attempting to match her sensual gaze, and perhaps outdo it.

It was a smooth, gentle, and sexy transaction. She slowly lifted her arms higher and helped him pull the shirt over her head. When it was completely off she took it from him and tossed it to the side. He guessed she didn't much care anymore that he'd "ruined it."

She cocked her head to the side, the way she often did when looking at him with a kind of girlish inquisition, playful yet deeply serious all at once. This was the angle she viewed him best from. "You're all wet too," she said, her voice just above a whisper.

It was a bold move, but it seemed like the only obvious thing to do. And he could see how every gesture she made was an invitation for him to take things a little further. He held his arms out, surrendering in the same way she had to him. "Here...take it off."

She nodded. She started with her hands on his chest, then moved them downward with an agonizing slowness that drove him mad. His eyes followed the gentle journey of her hands, also catching sight of her perky chest perfectly nestled and contained inside its intimate garment. Her shirt had soaked through to her skin, and it was glistening with dampness. He leaned down and kissed, or more like dragged his firey lips from her chest to her neck.

She halted at the bottom of his shirt. Instead of removing it, she reached under and ran her hands over his back. He felt her fingernails grazing his skin.

"Mmmm," he groaned. He couldn't hold back any longer. He pulled her even closer, kissed her neck harder, then her ear, then all over her face. By the time he reached her lips the passion had boiled and surfaced in a raging tongue-warring kiss.

It was her that danced them backwards and made them fall carelessly onto her bed. Their movements were now hurried, hormonal, and needy. He tore at her remaining clothes, while at the same trying to lighten her task by kicking off his own shoes and pulling his shirt up over his head. Her hand moved rapidly southward to what was barely contained in his jeans. He closed his eyes tight and made a primal grunting sound. He reached down and put his hand over hers to stop it from going there, letting her know it was too much too soon.

All of a sudden, inbetween the vague bars of lust and reality, they heard a sound, the most terrible sound of all, of someone opening the front door downstairs. "Hello?" called a masculine voice.

A lovers' solitude corrupted and destroyed.

"Shit!" she gasped as both of them broke apart with startled urgency, as if they'd been caught in the act. "It's Chip. I forgot to lock the door." She bounded off the bed, throwing her clothes on carelessly, almost tripping over herself, and trying to make as little noise as possible.

"Anybody home?" they heard his voice bellowed again.

She looked at him. "Ross, you have to go...somewhere."

"Where?"

"Uuh, I don't know, uuh...here, the closet!"

Reluctantly he hurried over, doing what he knew he had to do to avoid imminent trouble for both of them. He ducked into her rather spacious closet alone.

"Thanks," she said, panting out of breath. "I'll try not to let him come up here."

Before she closed the door on him, he said boldly and firmly: "Tell him to leave...make him."

She looked at him somewhat sadly for an instant, but said nothing. She closed the closet door, and he heard her leave the room and head down the stairs. Chip had a booming, over-confident voice that carried all throughout the house.

"Hey babe."

"Hey."

"Why'd you take so long to come down?"

"Sorry, I just got out of the shower. I was blow-drying my hair and didn't hear you."

"Oh. Well, I just came by to get my letterman jacket I left in your room the other night."

"You didn't leave it in my room."

"Yes I did."

"No I just cleaned it, I promise it's not in there."

He chuckled. "_You_ cleaned your room? Are you that bored around the house without be, baby?"

There was silence, and then a muffled sound of Chip advancing on her.

"Chip, come on," she said. She was obviously pushing him away.

"What the hell, Rach?" he said with ego-bruised irritation.

"I just, I don't have a lot of time right now. My friend Monica is coming over soon." That was somewhat of a half-truth, considering one Geller was already at her house.

"Monica?" he said with disgust. "That annoying fat girl you used to hang out with in high school?"

Ross felt his stomach churn with anger. "She's skinny now, you dope," he muttered to himself.

"Why are you hanging out with her again?" Chip continued.

"Because I want to," she said, her tone growing impatient. "She's my friend, and I can hang out with whoever I want."

"Ok, ok, chill out. Jeezus. Anyways, just let me get my jacket, I'm late to meet the guys."

"It's not in my room, Chip, I already told you."

"Yes it is, I swear I left it there."

"It's _not_," she said firmly.

"Rach, what the fuck is with you? Let me just look for my goddamn jacket--"

"I SAID NO!!" she almost screamed. "I don't have your stupid jacket, and you are NOT going in my room...I'll tell my father," she said in a soft but firm little girl voice.

Chip was taken aback by her dramatic outburst. He was obviously used to having his way. Ross heard him scoff, in an attempt to recover his masculine upper hand which had just been stomped on by a girl half his size. "Fine, pull the Daddy card on me. I don't know what the hell is with you lately. Must be that time of the month or something."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's it."

"Whatever, I'm out of here. Have fun eating twinkies with MoniCOW."

Ross heard the door slam, and then his car starting up in the driveway. Thank God Ross had parked in the street. Still, a guy with sharper wits might've put two and two together and grown suspicious. At least Chip was dim enough that their secret affair, if subtle enough, could go completely over his head.

Ross figured it was okay to come out now. He went to the top of the stairs and saw Rachel sitting on the bottom one with her back turned to him.

"You ok?" he asked delicately.

"Yeah..."

"I'm proud of you...you stood your ground."

She turned her head and looked up him at his towering height. "Thank you."

About an hour later, they were lying on her bed, facing each other and talking softly. Both were fully dressed, and nothing sexual had taken place; that mood had been killed, and left to die somewhere in its heightened state of bliss. It was all right though, because a new level of intimacy was present in the way they were conversing like old friends. Perhaps they could share that private disclosing "pillow talk" anytime, without needing to make love first.

"Do you love him?" Ross asked.

"Hm...I don't think we should talk about that," she said somewhat shyly, as though for his sake.

"Well, you don't have to tell me...but I really want to know."

After a pensive and drawn-out silence, her answer was, "When he says he loves me, I say 'I love you too'."

This was a carefully worded answer which he thought he could interpret, but wasn't quite sure. In his heart, Ross was certain she had never felt one speck of the genuine affection that he himself had felt for her years before he'd ever known her intimately like this. But still, it was her heart, and her emotions, and he couldn't stake any claims on that no matter how strongly he felt.

But sometimes she made it easier on him, and in so many words confirmed that most of his heartfelt assumptions were in fact true. "You don't believe I love him, do you?"

Ross tenderly stroked her arm. "Honestly, just judging by the way you two were interacting just now...oh it just can't be, Rach. If that were love, we'd all be in for a major disappointment in life. If that were love, I would see no reason to go on living.

She looked down, tracing the design on her bedspread. "He's not always like that, you know...I mean what do you expect, I was yelling at him, and telling him to--"

She stopped mid-sentence the moment she locked eyes with him. They were cynical, unconvinced, and communicating a message of "cut the shit."

"I'm sorry..." she said.

"It's ok. Just don't build him up to be something he isn't. I hate that."

He wanted to take it even further. He wanted to ask all the definitive questions pertaining to why the Hell she couldn't just drop this boneheaded loser whom she'd been carrying around like dead weight since high school. But for some reason he ended up offering up his own words of defense in the name of Chip Matthews.

"You know, you're right. That was a tense moment, and you were yelling at him for reasons he didn't understand. I shouldn't judge him based on that...I wouldn't want anybody judging me in that light."

Rachel sighed. "Can we change the subject?"

"Gladly." He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingertips.

She was smiling at him tenderly now, looking thoughtful. She rolled over and retrieved her Polaroid camera from her nightstand drawer. "Here, smile," she said, holding it above their faces for a picture. They both put on cheesy grins as the camera flashed. She took several pictures, some goofy and playful, and some affectionate ones with Ross kissing her cheek.

All of a sudden her phone rang.

"Hmmmm I better answer that." Despite Ross' protests she rolled over onto her side and picked up the phone on her nightstand. "Hello?...Monica, hi...really? Oh wow, that's great..."

While she was talking Ross wrapped an arm around her and kissed and nibbled on her arm.

"...So next Saturday then?...Well great, I can't wait to see you...Ok Mon, love you. Bye." She hung up the phone and turned to face Ross. "Your sister's coming home for the weekend," she said with a smile.

"That's great. I haven't seen her in forever."

"Me neither."

"Hey Rach?"

"Yeah?"

He hesitated to ask such a childish question, but he went for it anyway. "Do you think it can be like old times again? You know, with you and Monica as best friends, and you coming over for dinner all the time?"

The picture he'd just painted made her smile warmly. "Well I don't know, Ross. I mean, we're not in high school anymore. It's just one weekend."

"Yeah...I know."

She looked thoughtful. "But I know with Monica, things were always different...I feel like we could be apart from each other for ten years, and the bond would still be just as strong when we reunited. Sometimes I feel like she's the only true friend I've ever had...even though I've known so many people in my life."

"Can I tell you something?" That wasn't really a question. He would tell her anyway. "I think--well, I've always thought it was so cool of you stay friends with Monica all through high school, and even now. I mean I know all that 'popularity' bullshit shouldn't matter...but it does. And it was really big of you to stay true your best friend regardless of what other people had to say about it."

Judging by the look on her face, he knew Rachel had never considered this an act of humanity on her part. She was always grateful to have a friend who never treated her like a Prom Queen or made their contrasting social statuses an issue.

"I never cared what people thought about Monica and I being friends...as a matter of fact it hurt me to see her teased and treated so badly just because she was...well, you know. I know it made her upset at times, but for the most part she handled it so well. Someday she'll probably be more successful than any of those bastards who tried to bring her down...anyways, she's the strong one. Not me."

He hugged her tight. "You're both strong. And I love you both."

"What?"

"...I said I love you both. I've known you almost as long as my sister, Rach. I care about you. I admire you. I think you're an amazing girl."

"Oh..."

The sun was setting and the room had grown dim. He didn't think it was wrong to confess that he loved her in that capacity; as a friend, as an almost life-long acquaintance whom he prayed would stay in his immediate circle forever. He didn't expect her to say much of anything in return. He was just glad she didn't run for the door or get scared. It was the kind of offer you can't reject, like free wages for no work. Free love. Free companionship. His offer always stood whether she received it or not.

* * *

Saturday came quick. Monica arrived home bright and early, and was already quarreling with Judy by the time he dragged himself out of bed.

"Hey loser," she said when he entered the kitchen.

"Hey you big loud mouth. I could hear you in my sleep," he said, pulling her into a hug.

"How's the summer treating you?"

"Eh, ya know, same old thing at the pool every day."

"Yeah, same old thing at my restaurant every day."

"Don't you like it there?"

"Oh I love it, but it's a lot of work. I'm actually relieved that school is starting soon."

It was true. The summer's end was upon them, approaching like a wildfire. He would be moving back to the city to live with his college friend Chandler in one week.

Damn.

"Well, I'm gonna head upstairs. I'm dying to hang out in my old room."

"Uh, Mon, I hate to tell you, but Mom and Dad turned it into a gym while you were away."

"Are you kidding? Well where am I supposed to sleep?"

Ross shrugged.

"It's funny, because now that I've lost all this weight I don't even need a gym anymore."

"Well, it's not much of a gym anyway. More like a tanning bed and a stack of Victoria's Secret catalogues."

She rolled her eyes and scowled. "Well that's just great. They just _had_ to do it to my room, didn't they? It couldn't have been _yours_, could it?"

"What can I say, I'm a medical marvel."

This prompted a little brother-sister warfare right there in the kitchen. In the old days Monica could take his scrawny ass down easily, but their respective sizes had altered quite significantly since high school.

"Ok, ok, let's just end this before I pin you to the ground."

"In your dreams, worm!" said the relentlessly competitive Monica. She grabbed hold of his ear and did something devilish to it that had him shrieking like a little girl.

"Um, hey guys."

Both turned and saw Rachel standing there. Neither had heard her come in. The sight of her estranged friend made Monica forget about Ross, who was blushing from embarrassment, and run to Rachel. The two of them embraced passionately.

"God, it's so good to see you."

"You too. I've missed you so much."

Ross smiled and left them to get reacquainted in peace. He went up to his room to straighten up somewhat, figuring the compulsively clean Monica would be taking his bed while she was here. Several minutes later, he heard a peculiar sound coming from downstairs. It was the sound of a feminine voice he knew he recognized, but that was so out of place and unexpected he couldn't identify it at first.

The next thing he heard was his mother calling, "Ross! Come down here!"

Confused and somewhat uneasy about who was down there, he exited his room and went down the stairs.

It was Carol. She was in the midst of hugging Judy and saying something about being in Long Island to visit a girlfriend.

"Ross, look who stopped by for a visit," said Judy.

"Hey Carol," he said, trying to act less awkward than he felt.

Carol smiled warmly. "Hey there. How've you been?"

"Uh, pretty good. How about you?"

"Good, good. Sad the summer's coming to an end."

"Yeah, same here."

"Well, I'll let you two get reacquainted," Judy said, excusing herself to another room.

Ross overheard Monica and Rachel in the kitchen. "Hey uh, why don't we go up to my room and talk?" he said, perhaps a little too urgently.

"Sure, ok." When they entered his room, she found the décor was different than she remembered it. "Wow, I see you've rearranged some things since I was last here."

"Just tried to make it a little more grown up," he said.

She chuckled. "Well I admit the dinosaur toys were cute, but it was a little creepy fooling around in what looked like a ten-year-old's bedroom."

"Carol?" he deadpanned. "Why are you here?"

She looked at him, somewhat taken aback by his "cut the shit" attitude, but understanding it nonetheless. "I'm uh, I'm visiting a friend."

"Yes. I know why you're here in Long Island. But why are you _here_ at my house? I haven't heard from you in over a month and you just show up out of the blue. How the hell am I supposed to deal with that?"

"Well I guess you can 'deal' with that any way you like, Ross. But I came here because I wanted to see you. I missed you, and I feel like we left things up the air, with nothing ever resolved."

He scoffed bitterly. "Yeah and whose doing was that? I recall getting kicked out of your room the last time we were together."

Her face hardened. "I recall getting _left_ alone in my room the last time we were together."

He realized they had completely different interpretations of how their relationship had panned out. There was no use arguing. It was better to just level the playing field and move forward from there.

After a drawn-out silence he cut the tension with a gentle apology. "I'm sorry," he said. "Really, it's good to see you. I'm glad you came by."

She looked easily softened by this, and began moving towards him. "Well good, I'm glad to her that." She put her hands on his chest and boldly, perhaps a little _too_ boldly, pulled him into a kiss.

Just then, Judy poked her head into the room. "Ross, Carol?"

They broke apart, somewhat embarrassed to be caught making out by his mother.

"Sorry to interrupt. But Carol, dear, I absolutely insist that you stay for dinner tonight. Monica's friend Rachel is staying too. It'll be like a miniature dinner party."

"That's so kind of you, Judy, thank you."

Ross cringed at the thought of sitting at the dinner table with both Carol and Rachel. Was someone playing a cruel joke on him?

The situation intensified when Rachel slipped into his room while Carol was in the bathroom.

"Hey," she said smiling. She kissed him on the mouth, but he quickly broke it. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, we can't do this right now...someone's here. She'll be out of the bathroom any second."

"Who?" she asked, totally perplexed.

"It's...my girlfriend. Well, my ex-girlfriend that is. I'm not really sure what she is. But she's here."

She certainly was 'here' and Rachel found that out when Carol entered the room, returned from the bathroom.

"Hello," said Carol, surprised and confused to see a strange girl in Ross' room.

"Um, hi."

"You must be Rachel."

"Yes. You must be..."

"Carol."

"Carol, yes. Nice to meet you."

"You too."

"Well thanks for letting me use your phone, Ross," Rachel said, quickly justifying her means for being in his room.

"Oh, uh, no problem."

"I'll see you guys at dinner."

"Yeah, see ya."

Rachel left the room, with Carol and Ross both looking after her.

"So that's Monica's friend, huh?"

"Yep."

"She's pretty."

Ross made some kind of nod/blink/"I don't know"/shrug acknowledgment of that. For some reason he felt it would be best to steer Carol out of the house for the remainder of the afternoon. He went with her of course, and the two of them spent some time at a coffee shop catching up on life.

"So what's going to happen...with us?" she finally asked.

He sighed and looked down into the blackness of his coffee. "God Carol, I just don't know. "We'll both be going separate places within a week. I'm just not sure if this is the best time to rekindle a relationship."

"You're right, it is bad timing."

Carol also revealed that she was very confused about life in general at the moment. Ross, she felt, was like a rock that kept her grounded. She had realized this even more so in the time they spent apart.

"Carol, I think it's best that we don't commit to anything right now. But I want us to still be close, and to leave the door open for each other."

Was that really true? Did he really want that?

"I want that too," she said. "I still love you, Ross..."

After a definitive pause, "I love you too."

He said all of these things with his heart only half in it. But the half that was in was as genuine as it knew how to be on that strange and conflicting day.

That night at the dinner table, Ross was seated right next to Carol and right across from Rachel. He tried his hardest not to make eye contact with her. There was a thick and suffocating tension enveloping the room that perhaps only he was aware of. His discomfort must've shown on his face.

"Ross, are you all right?" Judy asked.

"Yeah, fine. It's just hot in here."

"Want me to turn the air conditioning up?"

"No. It's ok." As he shifted in his chair, he couldn't help but catch her eyes. They looked concerned, and perhaps even a little hurt. His eyes quickly danced away, and he spent the remainder of the meal with his head bent to his food, listening to Monica tell animated stories about her summer job.

After dinner Carol said she was leaving to go stay with her friend. Ross walked her to her car.

"Have fun with your friend," he said.

"Thanks. I'll call you when I get back home to Rochester."

"Ok." He leaned in and kissed her. As she drove away he stood at the end of the driveway waving somewhat mechanically with mixed emotion on his face. What a strange day. He was in a bit of a daze, and his mind was foggy and conflicted.

Monica and Rachel had already gone to her house to spend the night there. Ross really wanted to talk to Rachel, not that he was at all sure what he might say. But there was no way to do this since Monica was with her, and didn't know about their relationship.

He went to his room, stripped down to his boxers and went to bed quite early. Sleep came easily after that long and mentally draining day. He was glad for that.

* * *

"Looks like you haven't cleaned up much since I was last here," Monica jokingly said of Rachel's messy bedroom.

"Well, maybe you can clean it for me."

Monica's eyes lit up. "Really? Omigod, I would love to!"

Rachel laughed. "Hey, do you want some wine? I could bring some up here and we could have a tipsy girl talk, just like high school."

"Sounds good to me."

Rachel smiled and went downstairs. Monica looked around at the familiar Princess-like décor of her old friend's bedroom. She felt warmly nostalgic, and very glad to be back. She set her overnight bag down on Rachel's dresser; but when she did this, she accidentally knocked over a few cluttered objects, one of them being a photograph.

She bent down to pick it up. She noticed a familiar face in the picture...two familiar faces, that is. Ross and Rachel, to be exact. Ross and Rachel. Together. On her bed. Looking quite friendly. Quite _affectionate_, rather.

She heard Rachel coming up the stairs, and quickly put the photograph back in its original place.

"Well, looks like all my parents have is this cheap bottle of Merlot," Rachel said when she entered the room.

Monica smiled and shrugged. "That'll do."


	9. what do you want

**Hey guys, here's the next installment. If you have an appetite for drama than I hope you're hungry :))**

**Imagine what if: great to hear from you, and thanks so much for your kind reviews! The only reason I haven't responded to your PM is that I can't figure out how to receive them...maybe you could map it out for me? thanks :)**

* * *

Monica downed yet another sip of wine, and laughed rather mechanically at Rachel's reenactment of another hilarious incident from high school. She was in somewhat of a daze, her mind still fixed on that image of her brother and her best friend posing like a happy romantic couple. It wasn't a startling or disturbing image. Just odd. Very odd, and very out of the blue.

And furthermore, it made her realize how long she'd been away. How great of a gap had formed between her and the people she loved; and in this gap there had been room for Ross and Rachel to find each other. Well, wait a minute..."find" each other? Did that even make sense? They had known each other for years. And Monica knew little to nothing about the nature of their relationship at that point. All she knew was that one image.

And it was a powerful image indeed.

"Are you ok, Mon?" Rachel asked. She noticed Monica had been very distant, and not adding much to the conversation.

"Sure, I'm fine."

"Is the wine gettin' to ya?" she asked with a grin.

"Hehe. Yeah, maybe that's it. I forgot how sleepy wine makes me."

"Well you always were a lightweight."

"Oh look who's talking! Remember when you made out with that girl after only one glass of Sangria?"

Rachel acknowledged that incident regretfully. "I don't really remember it, to be honest. I do know that I had _a lot_ more than one glass of Sangria though."

They shared a laugh, and Monica forgot momentarily about the peculiar image boggling her mind. Perhaps she should just polish off the remainder of that wine bottle and forget all about it. Before she had the chance, Rachel brought up an interesting subject.

"So uh, what's going on with Ross and that girl?" she asked.

"Oh, uh...well gosh, I really don't know. The last I heard they were broken up."

"Really? Um, did he break up with her or something?"

"I'm not sure. It was a little strange. For a while he couldn't stop raving about how 'in love' they were...then he just sort of stopped talking about her altogether."

"So he was...in love with her?"

Monica felt awkward. She wasn't sure of how much or how little she should say. And under normal circumstances it would've been extremely odd for Rachel to be asking these rather eager questions about Ross' romantic life.

Rachel seemed to realize this too, and tried to backpeddle somewhat. "It's no big deal, I was just curious." She chuckled. "Ross seemed pretty uncomfortable at dinner tonight."

"Yeah he did. I think he was just shocked that Carol showed up out of the blue like that."

Rachel seemed willing to drop the subject and move on. Monica thought about it and she knew she couldn't go on like this for very long. She could perhaps withstand tonight, but not tomorrow. Oh just say it. They were best friends, weren't they? Their bond wasn't worth rekindling if they couldn't tell each other everything, under any circumstances.

"Rach...?" her voice was serious.

"What?"

Monica smiled warmly and reached for Rachel's hand. "You can tell me anything. You know that, right?"

"Of course I know that, Mon."

"So...is there something you want to tell me?"

"Um...is there something you already know?"

Monica looked down at her hands. "I'm not exactly sure what I know. I think I might know something...about you." She looked up. "...And my brother."

Rachel's reaction was somewhat unaffected at first. She hadn't thought of what she might say or do if Monica found out...or if anyone found out for that matter. Rachel looked down and fidgeted nervously with her hands. Then Monica saw her eyes were welling up with tears.

"Rach..." she moved closer to her. "I love you. It's ok. Whatever it is, I won't be mad."

Rachel looked up at her. Her eyes were glistening from an intense wave of emotion that had passed over her. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just didn't think you'd...oh Mon, he's just so sweet, and caring, and unlike any other guy I've been with."

"So you guys are...I mean, you're more than just friends?"

Rachel looked down and nodded somewhat bashfully.

"How long?"

"About a month."

Monica almost smiled to herself. That sure explained a lot about Ross' recent behavior. "Ross is a great guy, Rach. And I know he cares for you a great deal."

"Did he tell you that?"

She chuckled lightly. "Oh honey. You have to know he's been hopelessly obsessed with you for ages."

Rachel looked down. She wasn't interested in hearing about the "hopeless" guys and their "obsessions" with her. "Yes, I know that...I suppose. God Monica, I wish I could say I had a better grip on things."

"Are you're still with Chip?"

Rachel nodded. "Ross and I aren't really...I mean we're not exclusive or anything...it just sort of happened."

"I see...have you thought about what you're going to do when he leaves?"

When he leaves. There are certain phrases that ring these God-awful bells of sorrow in your ears. When Monica said this, Rachel felt an emptiness like no other. It was yet another strange conflicting feeling she didn't know what to do with. "No...I haven't thought too much about that. I don't really know right now."

Monica saw how fragile and melancholy Rachel had become when forced to speak of this. She realized she needed to keep her distance from this situation. After all, the whole thing had taken place when she was in another city, not even speaking to Rachel at the time. It really was none of her business, come to think of it. This made her sad...sad for Rachel, that is. She must've been so lost and lonely.

Monica realized she'd been gone for far too long. And all of a sudden she felt herself getting choked up. She felt the need to hug Rachel, and she did. They didn't speak any more about Ross for the rest of the night.

* * *

You know what Ross really felt like doing? He felt like running off with her to some faraway city and marrying her and never speaking to anybody else again, not even his parents. But those are just the crazy harebrained thoughts you have when you're being completely honest with yourself and facing all of the pent-up impulses in your heart. And you better believe he didn't have one rational well-planned impulse in his body. But that's the reason you never act on them anyway. That's just the way life goes.

He didn't see or speak to her for the remainder of the weekend while Monica was visiting. He wasn't exactly sure where he stood with her at that point. He didn't know if he should call her right away, or keep his distance and wait for her to make the next move.

He had promised Carol he would call. Normally he was a man of his word, but that night he did something rather out of character. He dialed her number and waited while the phone rang three times. But as soon as she answered he hung up immediately. He wasn't even sure why he did this. It was just that his mind was flip-flopping this way and that, always deciding on something and then quickly deciding against it.

He felt so conflicted and because of this he sort of wished he could be freed from the binding chains of Rachel. Yes, he sort of wished he _could_ just call up his perfectly nice girlfriend Carol, and just have a perfectly nice conversation, and just live perfectly and normally like that, without thinking of Rachel every other goddamn second of the day.

Of course he was wishing _this_ a few minutes after wishing he could run off and live happily ever after with Rachel. On nights like these he generally turned the lights off and put his poor conflicted head to bed around nine o'clock.

The next day she came to the pool. She was with a girlfriend he recognized from high school, and wearing a white bikini. She made no acknowledgement of Ross, but he got butterflies in his stomach just knowing she was there. His eyes kept glancing over at her while she and her friend spent a long time at the snack bar talking to the guy who worked there. Then they came over to the pool deck to lay in the sun. They stayed there for about an hour, and then left.

"What the hell was that?" he thought with some bitterness. Was she trying to get his attention? Did she even notice he was there? Oh hell, of course she knew he was there. She knew damn well he worked there every damn day of the summer. She knew he was sitting up in his lifeguard chair watching her from a distance.

It made him a little angry. He wondered if she knew the intensity of what he felt for her...or if this was just a teenage cat and mouse game to her. He didn't like her very much at that moment.

And he liked her even less when she showed up the next day and did the very same thing. She was with two of her ditzy friends this time, and the three of them planted themselves on the deck for quite some time. He saw her talking and laughing with them like she didn't have a care in the world.

He couldn't take it anymore. He called another lifeguard over to take his place for a moment. "Hey Todd! Cover for me for a second. I gotta, um, go get something to drink."

He got down from his chair and headed over to the deck where Rachel was. She was lying on her stomach, and her back was turned to him.

"Hi Rachel," he said. He was standing right over her, almost blocking her sun.

Rachel and her friends all turned and looked up at him. She was wearing sunglasses and he couldn't read her face very well in the glaring sunlight.

"Hey Ross," she said casually.

"Ross _Geller_?" said her friend.

"Yep, that's me. Hey Mindy, hey Jackie," he said, recognizing the former cheerleaders from high school. They both acknowledged him with relative disinterest and went back to reading their magazines. Rachel was still looking at him.

"Is anything wrong?" she asked him.

He hated that question. "Uh, nope, nothing's wrong. Just wanted to say hi. 'See if you were enjoying the sun."

Rachel didn't say anything else.

"Hey Ross, could please move? You're kinda blocking our sun."

Ross kept his eyes on Rachel's, which were covered. He wished he could see her eyes. She was hiding from him. "Sure thing, Mindy. I was just leaving." As he was slowly backing away he said, "Bye girls...bye Rachel."

He could hear Jackie and Mindy snickering behind his back as he walked away. He didn't hear Rachel say anything.

When he came home that evening, she was there. And somehow he knew she would be. She had found the spare key behind the garage and let herself in. She was in his room, sitting on his bed. She was still wearing her sunglasses like before.

He didn't soften like a puppy dog when he saw her. As a matter of fact, his face maintained the hardened expression it had been pulling for most of the day.

She stood up. "Hi..."

Ross walked right up to her and took the sunglasses off her face. It was like he'd stripped her naked. Her eyes were green as they'd ever been, and full of the same little girl intensity that tore his heart out. She almost looked like she wanted to cry. But he didn't feel bad for doing it. He had to.

They were standing extremely close, breathing on each other. She wasn't looking at him. But she was backed into a corner and couldn't get away.

"Why did you do that today? And yesterday?"

"I didn't do anything to you..." Her voice was small and weak.

"Yes you did...yes you did."

She finally looked him in the eye. "You know, I have a life outside of you, Ross. Everything I do doesn't revolve around--"

"Oh yeah, I know all about your amazing life, with your amazing friends, and your amazing boyfriend! Jesus, I come home and you're sitting on my goddamn bed, and then you tell me you have a life outside of me? What do you _want_, Rachel? Do you want _me_?"

"What do _you_ want, Ross? Who the hell is that blond chick who shows up out of nowhere? Why the hell are you going away to school in a week?"

"You really wanna know what I want?"

"Yes!"

He crossed the room and took her face in his hands and kissed her with all the passion in the world. She'd been good and ready for it long before he'd even come home. And he loved the way she clawed at his back and drew sweet little breathless gasps that wanted more.

But he was tired of things going down irrational roads and ending too abruptly in their own tragic way. He broke the kiss, which he literally had to _insist_ upon, and put his hands on the sides of her face. The passion was still ablaze, and both were gasping for breath.

"I love you..."

He knew she wanted to say it back to him. She wanted to say it so bad, but it didn't really matter anyway because her eyes communicated everything. He kissed her again, and they started easing their way over to his bed.

All of a sudden the phone rang. Ross didn't even consider answering it. He wouldn't have answered to God under those circumstances.

The phone rang several times before the answering machine came on.

"Hi, this message is for Ross Geller. This is Bob Jacobs from the Paleontology Department at NYU. I'm calling about the year-long internship in Egypt you applied for a few months ago. Someone cancelled at the last minute, so we currently have an opening. If you're interested, please give me a call. Thanks, bye."

* * *

**Hmmm yeah. Abrupt ending...sometimes it's just better that way. You guys better review, or else I'll turn this into a Joey and Rachel story!!...ok, j/k :)**


	10. above the clouds

**Hey guys, my apologies for the huuuuge delay. Hope this chapter makes up for it :)  
**

* * *

"Egypt..."

That's not in New York, is it? That's not even in this galaxy...is it? I mean, you may as well just take a rocketship to Jupiter. Jupiter I understand. Egypt, now that's just out my world in so many ways. I mean, what the _fuck_ are you gonna do in Egypt? Become a goddamn mummy?

These were among the voices ranting in her head ever since that phone message had corrupted their passionate union. She was vaguely aware of taking a step away from him to distance herself...because pretty soon _he_ would be distancing himself from her, wouldn't he?

"Rachel...please...it was just a message. It doesn't mean anything."

Yes it did. And he knew it. It meant he had business elsewhere, and not here. It meant that he was already lost to her in a way.

She moved further away from him, heading for the door but not yet going through it. She looked down at the floor, then at him. "So," she said. "You're gonna have to walk me through this."

"Through what?"

"All of it. Egypt, 'paleontology', dinosaurs...everything. Because I don't understand _any_ of it. I'm just a dumb cheerleader, remember?"

"Rachel, come on, stop it. I don't think you're dumb, not at all."

"Oh, well thanks a fucking lot, Ross," she said bitterly. She grabbed her purse off the bed.

"Where are you going?"

"I want to leave. I just, I really want to go now." She sounded like she was close to tears.

He moved towards her, almost _charging_ at her before she could walk out the door. He put his hands on her face and his demeanor softened. "Don't leave," he whispered. "Please. I'll explain everything. Anything you want to know."

She swallowed the lump in her throat and sniffed. She nodded slowly, not looking him in the eye. He took her hand and led over to sit down on his bed.

"Ok, well...a few months ago I applied for this internship in Egypt. I figured I had a pretty good shot since my grades were good. The internship has little to do with dinosaurs really. It's more about studying ancient civilization, digging for fossils, stuff like that. But the last I'd heard all the spots were taken up, so I just figured I'd be going to school at NYU this year, same as always."

"And...do you want to go?"

He couldn't lie to her. Yes, of course he wanted to go. He'd been dreaming about this amazing opportunity all throughout his college years.

Then again, speaking of dreams...look who was sitting next to him on the bed.

He grazed her cheek with the back of his hand. "I don't want to lie to you, Rach. Yes, it would be an amazing opportunity for me...then again, so much has happened this summer, between us. I don't want to leave you...I love you."

And the most terrible moment of all was when she truly looked more offended than moved by those three beautiful and complex words. On some level he understood exactly why. And he wasn't sure there was anything he could possibly do to salvage this moment. What little stability their relationship had was shattered. Now she knew it was between her and all the pyramids and Egypt.

God, why did she have to hear that message?

He had no idea how long of a silence had lapsed. He had no concept of time when he was with her. Everything seemed to fall between a blink of an eye and forever.

"Ross...?"

"...Yeah?"

"I need you to let me leave now...I need you to let me go home."

Those words killed him, but he respected them immensely. And more than anything, he _understood_ them as though they'd been uttered from his own lips. She was asking to be freed. She was asking permission, from him, to be let go. He slowly removed the hand that was rested affectionately on top of hers. _Making_ her stay was not an option, and never would be.

"Go," he said.

And she left, out the door, never looking him in the eye. It wasn't about leaving him. _Him_ was what she'd come here for, and _him_ she wanted. But it was the circumstances she had to run from before they enveloped her in a stranglehold of intensity. It was the first time for both of them to realize that none of this was ever allowed to be easy; they would both be forced to fight tooth and nail for it if they wanted it bad enough.

That was just the nature of this beast...and the general nature of love, I suppose.

Rachel cried all the way home, driving rather recklessly like a woman in distress. What pained her the most was that she hadn't been able to tell him anything she was really feeling. She couldn't stop thinking of his last word to her, which was, "go." He'd simply released her without a fight, without questioning her judgement or attempting to hold her against her will.

When she got home, she collapsed on her bed and cried so hard she had to burry her face in a pillow to muffle her sobs. The feelings were a little bit maddening. Everything was hardcore now. Everything had gotten so goddamn serious.

He was going to leave her, that was certain. If it wasn't Egypt it would be New York City. And somehow she knew she'd already lost him. God, and what did she even _want_ from him anyway? Did want him to stay?

Oh goodness, yes.

But could she _ask_ him to stay?

Oh heavens, no. Who did she think she was? Who did she think _he_ was?

At some point, after the sun had set and her room was dark, she pulled herself up and turned on a light. She sat down at her desk and wrote him a letter, as if he were already a thousand miles removed from her.

Meanwhile, Ross was lying on his bed looking up at the ceiling, trying to think blank and meaningless thoughts. He didn't know what his next move was. He was waiting for somebody to make the next move _for_ him.

The phone rang. The loud ringing sound annoyed him immensely. If only to make the ringing stop, he answered it.

"Hello?"

"Mailbox," said a voice he knew very well, even in it's most mysterious of tones. That was all she said before hanging up.

So he went outside to the mailbox and found a pink envelope with his name on it. It made his heart race. He hurried anxiously up to his room and tore open the envelope. Inside was a letter and a Polaroid photo she'd taken of the two of them cuddling on her bed. He unfolded the letter and found a litany of frantic words, some of them smudged and ruined by her tears.

_Dear Ross,_

_I feel like I don't say enough to you or tell you what I'm really feeling. First I just need to tell you I love you. I'm sorry I didn't say it when you said it to me. I have a hard time recognizing my own emotions sometimes. But now I know that I DO love you, very much. You're the greatest guy I've ever known, and I really don't deserve you. I wish we could be together, like a normal couple. I really do...but we just can't._

_There's something I've never told you. The reason I'm still with Chip is because my parents want me to marry him. They're going to buy us a house after Chip gets out of college. My dad already has a job set up for him and everything. They think he's the perfect guy for me. They've threatened to kick me out if I break up with him._

_And then there's you, Ross. You have your whole life that doesn't include me. You're a smart and talented guy and I know you're going to be very successful one day. Don't change your plans because of me. Trust me, that wouldn't be worth it. In fact, it's probably good that the summer is coming to an end. Now we can go our separate ways and live our own lives'...there's no way we can be together now, and both of us need to face that._

_I do love you. And I loved being with you so much...you're the best I've ever had. And I mean that in a lot of ways._

_Oh God, I'm getting too emotional now. I'm sorry for this stupid letter. I should've said all of this to you in person...and God I wish you were here right now._

_But I have to go...I'm sorry._

_I love you...thank you._

_Love,_

_Rachel_

_P.S. - Monica knows._

Ross read the letter several times. A wave of bittersweet emotions was channeling through his veins. He had to talk to her. He picked up the phone and dialed her number.

A young man's voice answered. "Hello?"

It was Chip.

Ross said nothing. He heard Rachel's voice in the background saying, "Chip, who is it?"

"I don't know, there's no answer."

Rachel took the phone from him. "Hello?" she said.

Ross hung up.

Rachel slowly hung up her phone as well. She knew it was Ross.

"Who do you think it was?" asked Chip.

"I don't know...probably a wrong number." She kept her back turned to Chip for several moments. He had showed up unannounced, the way he often did late at night.

"Hey babe...babe?"

She was in a bit of a daze, thinking about Ross. She then realized the word "babe" was something she was supposed to answer to. "What?" she said.

"Care if I order a pizza?"

"Uh, no. Do what ever you want."

"Cool. I'm starving. Can I, uh, use your phone?"

"Oh, right, yeah." She handed him the phone that she was still clutching in her hand.

After placing his order he hung up the phone. "Twenty minutes or less...Hmmm I wonder what we could do in twenty minutes," he said with a suggestive grin. He put his arms around her waist and moved in to kiss her neck.

"Hmmm Chip come on, I'm not feeling very well."

"I know," he said, kissing down her chest. "That's why I'm trying to make you feel good."

She just closed her eyes and let it happen. It didn't take very long. Much less than twenty minutes. When the doorbell rang downstairs, Chip got out of bed and put his clothes on. Before leaving the room he stopped in the doorway. "Oh wait, I have something else I need to ask you."

"What, you want to order Chinese food too?" she snapped. "Just do whatever you want, Chip, I don't freaking care."

"Jesus, calm down! What I want to ask you is...well, if you're cheating on me?"

She tried not act as shocked as she was. "Cheating on you? Wh-why would you think that?"

"It's a yes or no question, Rach. And if you're lying I'll be able to tell. I've known you for years."

Rachel pulled the covers more securely around her exposed body. She looked him in the eye. "No. I'm not cheating on you."

Chip looked into her eyes, digging for the truth. He didn't dig very deep though. He didn't take the time. Had he done so, he would've discovered the _real_ truth about Rachel's infidelity with another guy. Beneath the surface it was written all over her face.

Chip grinned. "Well I guess I would've found out about it by now. You can't keep a secret in this town. They always know what people like us are up to."

Rachel breathed an inner sigh of hidden distress. She traced the design on her bedspread and avoided his eyes.

The doorbell rang again. Chip remembered the pizza guy and turned to go out the door. He stopped and turned back, fumbling inside his pockets. "Oh shit, I don't have my wallet with me. You got any cash?"

Rachel grabbed her purse off the floor and tossed it at him.

"Thanks babe."

He left the room.

"You're welcome," she said stiffly.

That night never ended, or so it seemed. It had phases, sagas, seasons of hot and cold, mileage to go for ages. Chip ate his goddamn pizza right down to the very last crumb. He stayed downstairs for a while, watching a game on TV with her father. Meanwhile Rachel stayed in her bedroom thinking about Ross. He was leaving in a matter of days. She wondered if he had decided to go to Egypt or not...not that it mattered either way.

When she couldn't stand agonizing over him anymore she picked up the phone and dialed his number.

"Hello?" he answered.

She hesitated for a moment before muttering a soft, "Hey..."

"Hi...what's up?"

"Nothing...you called earlier."

Her voice sounded soft and lonesome in the midst of a dark void, as if her voice was the only voice in the world.

"Yeah," he said. "I got your letter."

"Good."

"Thank you...I mean, I appreciate you telling me how you feel."

"You're welcome," she said. "So..."

"So what, Rach?" he said. His tone was blunt and to the point.

"I...what do you mean?"

"I mean, what now? Why did you call me?"

"Why did you call _me_?"

"...Because I wanted to hear your voice. Even though you basically ended things with us."

"That's not what I meant, Ross...I mean come on, you knew this wasn't going to be a serious thing. The summer is over, and now we have to go our separate ways."

He paused. "Well, ok then."

"...Ok then what?"

They were going around in circles, a complicated carousel of love.

"Then goodbye."

"...Goodbye. Have fun in Egypt."

"Thanks, I will."

But before he could hang up, Rachel said, "Wait!"

"...Yes?"

"I'm uh, having a party at my house on Friday. It's an end of the summer kinda thing...you should come."

"Well, thanks, but...I don't really think that's a good idea."

A dramatic silence ensued before she spoke again. "Then I guess you won't see me again...for a very long time."

Those were her final words to him before hanging up. And he wouldn't try calling her back tonight, not a chance. That conversation had left him dry, with a dreadful feeling in his gut. He had to talk to someone. Not _to_ her. But _about _her. He proceeded to dial one of the only other numbers he knew by heart. He felt bad, and a little bit out of his mind for calling this late.

"Hello?" answered Monica.

"Hey...it's me."

She almost grinned. "I had a feeling it would be."

"You know, don't you?"

"About you and Rachel?"

"Yeah."

"...Yeah, I do. Rachel didn't tell me though."

He didn't care either way. He was glad Monica knew. Now he finally had someone he could talk to about it.

"So...you're going back to school in a few days. I guess that's going to cause a problem."

"And there's something else...I uh, got offered a chance to go to Egypt for that internship I applied for. Someone cancelled at the last minute so there's a spot open."

Monica was taken aback by this. "Oh my God. Well, congratulations. That's an amazing opportunity for you."

Ross didn't say anything. Monica knew why.

"Well, I guess Egypt is a lot farther away than New York City, isn't it?"

Ross heaved an exasperated sigh. "Yeah...not that it matters I guess. She ended things between us. She's gonna marry that stupid bastard who treats her like shit, just because her parents want her to."

Monica rarely heard her brother speak with such venom and passion about anybody. It wasn't like him to act such a way. For a moment she found herself wishing he could've just carried on with his painless and easy romance with a simple girl like Carol. This thing with Rachel would bring so much drama to his life, she knew it. She just had to wonder where all of this would end.

"I'm sorry, Ross...I don't know what to say."

"I know...I don't either. I don't even know why I called. I just...oh goddammit. Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"If I go on this internship...do you think she'll still be here when I get back?"

Monica sighed. She had to tell it to him straight, and not sugarcoat things. And she knew he wanted it that way. "I don't know, Ross. Maybe. Maybe not. She might be here, but not in the place you want her to be. You and I both know, Rachel is a lost soul. She isn't grounded. She doesn't have direction. She doesn't know where she's going, or even why."

Every word she said was true, and Ross had known all of this before he'd even asked.

"She's so much different from you, Ross. You've always known what you wanted. You've always had a plan...and I hate to say it, but maybe it's better to end things with Rachel now, before it gets too complicated."

Ross scoffed. "Things could not possibly be more complicated than they already are."

Both lapsed into silence for an awkward and reflective moment.

"So uh, what about Rachel's party on Friday. Are you going?"

"No, I can't make it. What about you?"

"I don't know. I don't think it's a good idea...and it probably isn't."

"Well, I would have to agree with you and say that, no, it probably isn't a good idea. But you're a big boy now, Ross. As bossy as I can be, I can't tell you how to live your life."

It was getting late, and Ross' mind was exhausted with tired, reckless thoughts. "Thanks Mon. I'm sorry to bother you with all this."

Monica smiled. "Anytime, loser face. Hey, why don't you just go to bed, huh? Worry about this in the morning."

"Ok, I'll try. Goodnight."

"Goodnight. And Ross?"

"Yeah?"

"...Go to Egypt."

* * *

Friday was his last day as a lifeguard. He was tired and bored with the job anyway, and the feelings of Goodbye were neither bitter nor sweet. He sat slumped in his chair, same as always, and thought about Rachel's party tonight.

At one point, a frightened little girl ran up to him, disrupting his thoughts. "I can't find my mom," she cried.

Ross got out of his chair, and crouched down to her level. He did his best to calm and console the child. She instantly reminded him of Rachel when she was a little girl. "Come on," he said. And he took her hand and walked her over to a concerned looking woman who was obviously the girl's mother.

"Is that your mom?" he asked. She nodded, and he let her run off to the maternal arms of her mother. He called after her, "Be careful, Rachel. Don't run away again."

Was the girl's name really Rachel? He had called her that by accident, but the girl didn't object or correct him.

"Rachel, don't forget your sunscreen," the little girl's mother said to her.

It was.

How strange...and sweet.

* * *

"Ok, so we'll be sending you the necessary paperwork you'll need to fill out before leaving the country. Do you have a passport yet?

"Uh, no."

"Make sure you get one within the next day or so. Kind of an important detail. We're leaving on Monday, remember?"

"Yeah. I remember."

Ross was trying hard to process all of the details that Bob Jacobs was throwing at him. He must have sounded incoherent and indecisive because at some point Bob trailed off and asked him:

"Mr. Geller, are you sure you've thought this through? You sound a little uncertain. We've already had one student bail out on us, and we need to know that you're committed to this internship before signing on."

"I'm sorry, I've just uh, got some things on my mind. But I am committed to this, I assure you. I've wanted this for a long time."

"Well good, I'm glad to hear that."

The man went on shelling out the details and Ross took note of them the best he could. He was going through the motions somewhat robotically, it was clear. But he was eager to get to a point where there was no turning back. Where his plans were set in stone, and there were no more options to agonize over.

A few hours later, the late evening sun was setting, and the weekend nightlife was kicking up. A few blocks away Rachel's shindig was getting underway, attracting a good portion of Long Island's party animal youth.

Ross didn't know what he should do. He thought about calling up his lifeguard buddies and going to the party with them. Maybe he would feel better about showing up with a crowd of his own. But he didn't really feel like seeing those goofballs tonight. He didn't really feel like seeing anybody tonight, in fact. He wasn't even sure he wanted to see her...not like that, at least, at a party scene where he wasn't permitted to be acknowledged as her lover, or whatever the hell he was to her these days.

Then he remembered her last words to him the night before. _Then I guess you won't see me again for a very long time..._

There was no point in debating it any further. He knew he had to see her face again before he left. And after tonight he could venture off to a whole new region a million miles away and try to erase her from his life...if there even was a life without Rachel.

He put on a nice shirt and a pair of jeans and thought "Here goes nothing."

He hadn't been to a party at her house before. He hadn't been to many parties period. They weren't really his style, especially the ones like this, with underage drinking and thumping loud music. It's where the midnight animals go to lose themselves, and surrender to drunken idiocy, because there's nothing better in the world for them, or so they believe.

The house was dark except for the cheap disco lights making the room spin when you weren't even drunk yet. There were people everywhere. He moved through the crowd of monotonous faces, recognizing no one. He was monotonous too. At one point a girl with beer on her breath threw her arms around him and practically stuck her tongue down his throat. Ross cringed and pried her off of him. That wasn't what he'd come here for.

"Do you know where Rachel is?" he asked her.

"Whoooo's _Rachel?_" she slurred incoherently.

"Hey man, you got any weed?" a masculine voice asked him.

"No."

"Hey, isn't that Monica's brother?"

Now this girl he vaguely recognized as being Rachel's friend Mindy.

"Yeah, it's me," he said. "Hey, do you know where Rachel is?"

Mindy gave him a subhuman look. "Dirty dancing with Patrick Swayze, where do you think?"

Ross rolled his eyes and moved past her.

Mindy grabbed his arm. "No seriously, Ross, I think she's out in the backyard."

"Ok, thanks."

"No problem," she said. Then she started smirking. "And by the way, Ross, who the hell invited _you_ to this party?"

Mindy walked away giggling devilishly. Ross moved through the living room, through the kitchen, and out the back door. He stepped out onto the porch, which overlooked the lavishly decorated backyard. He surveyed the area and saw a bunch of people drinking and hanging out by the pool.

Then he saw her. And him. Kissing. Making out and having clothed sex was more like it.

It repulsed him. It made him mad. He'd rather go blind than be cursed to see a sight like that.

"Mmmmm, you're so hot," Chip said, groping her with urgent hands. "How 'bout we take this up to your room."

Rachel was a little limp in his arms, and didn't seem all that coherent. But she was sober enough to notice Ross standing over them on the porch.

"Ross!" she said.

Chip looked up and gave him a sub-human look similar to Mindy's. "Ross _Geller_, the science geek? What the hell is he doing here?"

"Chip, stop it..."

"Uh, actually I was just leaving," Ross said coldly. And he turned to go back inside the house.

"Ross, wait!" she called. She broke away from Chip and followed him inside.

"Rachel, what the fuck?" Chip said.

"I'll be right back!"

Rachel caught up with Ross in a little side room off the kitchen, which, thankfully, was unoccupied except for them.

"Ross, wait!"

"Just get away from me!" he snapped, whirling around to face her. His heart was pounding with rage and humiliation. He should never have come here.

"Ross, please, I'm sorry about Chip, I--"

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, thanks for inviting me to your fucking party. It's pretty noble of you to include someone like me in your exclusive social crowd. I guess I should feel pretty special right now, shouldn't I? Oh, and nice boy toy, by the way. I'm sure you two will have a beautiful future together. Looks like he treats you really well from what I've seen."

"Screw you, Ross! My life is none of your business, ok?"

"No, screw _you_, Rachel. You tell me you love me and that I'm the greatest guy you've ever been with. Then you break up with me so you can marry some douche bag you don't even love! What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

"I broke up with _you_? _You're_ the one who's leaving, Ross! That's right, you're packing your bags and going off to God knows where for God knows how long! And me, I'm staying right here, right where I've always been. No, the only one who's leaving is you."

Ross fell silent, breathing hard. He couldn't yell at her anymore. "Well, I...I would've stayed if you had asked me to."

Rachel was looking directly at him, serious as she would ever be. "Ok...then why don't you stay?"

Ross looked down at the floor. "I can't," he said softly. "I already told them I'd go."

And now he felt like a fool. His throat ached from all the yelling. He felt like he never wanted to speak again.

"Well then," she said. "I guess that's that."

She was slowly backing away from him, going for the door. Before she was completely out of his reach for good, Ross practically pounced at her and grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her. He did it with so much force that he almost backed her into the wall. Rachel was caught off guard at first, but quickly reciprocated the kiss with mutual passion.

"Oh my God!"

Ross and Rachel broke apart, startled, and saw Mindy and a few other girls standing in the doorway watching them.

Rachel was speechless and somewhat panic-stricken.

Ross didn't care. He had come here with nothing to lose. He acknowledged the girls with a dry look of apathy, then turned to look into Rachel's striking green eyes for the last time. "I love you," he whispered.

Then, calmly, making no apologies, he exited the little room, unfazed by the shocked and gaping stares of Rachel's disapproving friends. He moved through the living room and out the front door. As he was walking down the driveway toward his car, he heard Chip's deep and dim-witted voice calling after him.

"Hey Geller! Your sister still a cow?"

Ross kept walking and never turned back. "Yeah. Whatever."

A few days later Ross was on a plane to Egypt, soaring above the clouds, as far removed from life on earth as he would ever be. In his hands he was clutching the Polaroid photo of he and Rachel together. He could still taste her lip gloss in his mouth, but not for long.

He would write her every day.

* * *

**Hang in there, babies. It's a long road to paradise.**


	11. Letters to nobody

**Hey guys, sorry for the huge delay. I'm not sure if this update is of much compensation, but I promise it will get better in time. Thank you again for all the kind reviews. Please keep them coming!!!**

_Dear Rachel,_

_I am here in Egypt and I am safe. I have a few friends, but not many. My chosen profession happens to be a relatively self-centered one. Most people are in it for themselves, and nobody else. I'd like to think I'm in it for anybody...then again, some days I'm not at all sure why I'm here. I'm not sure why I left my home, and my family, and you, for this strange and foreign place. I think maybe I'm digging for something more than just dinosaur bones. I don't know what though...Hell, maybe I'm digging for you. _

_I really miss you. And I hate the way we left things between us. I hate the way I yelled at you that night at the party. I'll never yell like that again. And I hate watching that goon put his hands all over you. I never want to see that again. So maybe it's good that I'm not there right now, and not seeing the things that I definitely don't want to be seeing. I know I'm rambling on right now, and I'm sorry this letter is so pointless and dumb and idiotic. I'm really tired. In fact, my tiredness could almost be mistaken for drunkenness right now, and that's probably why I sound like such a blithering idiot._

_I'm sorry. I love you. Goodnight._

_Ross_

_Dear Rachel,_

_Today I wrote your name in the sand. And then I whispered it out loud to myself, and I just couldn't stop whispering it, over and over again. Rachel, Rachel, Rachel...I do that a lot. It's the only name I care to say. I wish everybody was named Rachel._

_You haven't written me back yet so I'm not sure how you are or what you're up to. Or maybe I don't really need to know that much. Just to hear your voice or even read your handwriting would be nice...but I understand if you're too busy to write me. I hope you'll do it soon though. I really miss you. I would just about die to see your face right now. I dream about you every night. I love you._

_Goodnight,_

_Ross_

He wrote her every day, and sometimes twice. Most of his letters sounded like rambling scrawls in a diary. But it was difficult to organize his thoughts out in the Egyptian desert. His mind didn't work the way it did back in America...perhaps that was a good thing. And anyway, his letters might've sounded less maddening had Rachel been writing him back. He'd made sure to put his address on every letter he sent.

But he never heard from her. Not a single word. And what did this make him? Just a fool, writing letters to an unresponsive girl. Perhaps he should start addressing his letters to Nobody. "Dear Nobody" he ought to write.

If only Ross knew that a million miles away a very distinguished and respectable man known as Doctor Leonard Green was the only one who ever saw his letters. Rachel's father had a habit of getting the mail every evening when he returned home from work. He became suspicious when he noticed quite a surplus of letters from a faraway place called "Egypt," and all of them addressed to Rachel. "Not that Geller kid again," he scoffed. "My little princess will never go for a loser like him. Why can't he accept that?"

Besides, Rachel was all set to marry Chip Matthews, the most popular guy in Long Island. She had everything a girl could possibly want. The last thing she wanted was some dinosaur geek sending her pathetic little love notes from a seventh-world country like Egypt. Dr. Green hid the letters in his sock drawer and never showed them to Rachel.

Rachel was looking up at the sky at an airplane gracing the clouds a million miles over her head. She was standing on the balcony outside her bedroom, watching the sunset, trying to see it for all its beauty. She felt empty and hallowed-out and strange. Nothing radiated warmth or wonderful zoned-in comfort or anything. She had just checked the mail...again. Again, again, again, and still there was nothing, nothing, nothing...

"Nothing" meant fashion magazines and telephone bills and postcards from random relatives. "Something" would've been a letter from Ross. She didn't know what to make of the fact that he hadn't attempted to make any contact with her since leaving for Egypt over a month ago.

A month is quiet a long time to wait in confusion. It's an extremely long time to cease all contact with someone you love...and she did love him. And she was under the impression that he felt the same...at least that's what he told her before he left.

He left. He left big time, didn't he? Egypt is no day trip, is it? Still, she thought they could make it work if the bond was kept strong.

But she couldn't make anything work with a man who wasn't there. "Oh Ross, where are you?" she often thought when staring down the horizon.

She could've asked Monica for his address. And yes, she could've written him all the letters in the world pledging her undying love, and attempting to keep their summer fling alive well into the new season. But that wasn't the way she wanted it. That wasn't the way he promised her it would be.

She shivered in the October wind. The days were getting shorter...and yet they seemed longer than they ever had in the firefly endlessness of summer.

And those summer nights were lost to her now, that was certain. The new season ushered in a cold void, and the falling leaves, like falling tears.

She had never loved him in October. Perhaps nobody loves anybody in October.

Perhaps he never really loved her at all.

"Ah crap," Ross muttered. He crumpled up another wasted piece of paper and tossed it in the trash. He did this because he'd mistakenly written "Dear Rachel" instead of "Dear Carol." He'd begun writing his ex-girlfriend after enduring weeks of Rachel's stone-cold rejection. He felt so alone out in the Egyptian desert. He needed to correspond with another soul. He needed the affirmation that somebody out there still knew his name.

And God he wanted that affirmation to be from Rachel. But what do you do when the voice on the other end of the telephone hangs up on you? What do you do when they've never answered the telephone at all? Do you keep calling, or do you try another number?

Ross tried another number; Carol's to be specific. He did it out of desperation, and to fulfill a man's basic need for human contact, particularly the contact of another woman.

And Carol was quite a penpal. Ross would write a letter to her, and she was always quick to respond with her end of the long-distance diatribe. Their letters were light and friendly, and sometimes more intense. Ross often had to bite his tongue, cap his pen, break his pencil to avoid expressing the void of loneliness he felt inside. In reality, he saw Rachel's eyes looking through everything. He smelled her scent on the breeze. She haunted his dreams every night. He was obsessed with her.

But he figured Carol wouldn't be too interested in hearing about all of that.

And as the weeks rolled by the pain began to numb. Slowly but surely his vision cleared and he could see beyond the phantom images of Rachel. He could go minutes, hours, and even days without thinking of her. He could go nights without seeing her in his dreams.

He began to thoroughly enjoy his correspondence with Carol. She was a smart, interesting, articulate girl whose vivid personality came alive in her writings. He looked forward to reuniting with her face-to-face when he returned home in the spring. Perhaps he would ask her to be his girlfriend again. Perhaps they never should have ended their relationship in the first place.

...And then he found out she was dating her friend Susan.

Oh well.

**6 Months Later**

"Hey babe, you got the last box?" Chip called to her from the bottom of the stairs.

"Yeah, I'm coming," she answered. She looked down at the jeweled engagement ring on her finger and swallowed the lump in her throat. Her childhood bedroom was still as pink as ever, but its personality was being boxed up and moved away. Her voice echoed off the vacant walls when she spoke.

"Rachel, we're leaving, come on!" her father called.

It was time to go. The moving van was outside, all gassed up and ready to haul the objects of her life over to the apartment complex across town. She grabbed the last box and lugged it downstairs where Chip and her parents were waiting impatiently.

The wedding was in two weeks.

"Ross, are you coming?" a soft, nurturing voice called to him. It was Julie, his girlfriend of nearly three months.

"Yep, just making sure I have everything," he said.

"Well hurry up, slow poke, I don't want the plane to leave without us."

"Hmmm, and if that happened we'd be stuck here in this desert all by ourselves." He raised his eyebrows suggestively and put his arms around her tiny waist. "Might not be such a bad idea, huh?"

Julie smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Well, I gotta tell ya, I don't know if I can survive another day without a good old American shower."

Ross begrudgingly agreed to this, remembering the sand in his ears and the incredible dryness of his sunburned skin. He was good and ready to leave this place. And he couldn't wait to introduce his new girlfriend to his family. Thank God she was from New York as well. Thank God she was coming home with him and not staying here.

No more Goodbyes. Only beginnings.


	12. Rachelle

**WOOO another update!!! lol believe me I'm just as surprised as you are. I love getting your input on the story, so please keep the reviews coming! :)**

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"Cheers!" said Jack Geller, raising a toast in honor of his son's long awaited homecoming. Glasses clinked and smiles were shared over an old fashioned family dinner at the Geller house. Monica was home as well, having recently graduated from college.

Ross' new girlfriend Julie was the dinner table's latest addition. She was a scholarly, petite, well-spoken Asian girl who shared Ross' passion for science. She was a few years Ross' senior and was currently working as a Graduate Assistant at NYU. The Geller family did not hesitate to welcome her with open arms.

"So, how did you two meet?" asked Judy.

Ross and Julie shared warm smiles across the table, remembering the events of the past few months quite fondly. "Uh, well, we met while studying some ancient homo erectus bones in the desert. We got to talking and found out we were both from the same part of New York...and then, uh, one thing led to another, and pretty soon we were inseparable."

"It was a lot more romantic than it sounds, believe it or not," Julie added.

"So, who asked who out?" Monica asked.

"You mean who asked _whom_ out," Ross corrected.

Monica shot him a look and gave him a playful kick under the table.

"Actually it was me who asked him out first," Julie said. "I'm not usually that bold around guys, but I really liked him, and I could tell he liked me too. He seemed so lonely and withdrawn all the time...I wanted to be there for him."

"Yeah, well...the Egyptian desert can be a pretty lonely place sometimes," Ross said somewhat bashfully. He locked eyes with Julie, and the two shared another warm smile. "But then I met Julie and I wasn't so lonely anymore."

"Well, I'm very happy for the both of you," Judy remarked genuinely. "I was afraid you wouldn't find happiness again after breaking up with Carol."

"Mom," Ross groaned with embarrassment.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Judy said, knowing she'd touched on a rather sensitive subject.

Julie chuckled and reached for Ross' hand. "It's ok, Judy. Ross already told me about his last girlfriend. Sounds like it turned out to be quite an interesting situation."

Judy was confused, unaware of the rather shocking revelation that had brought Ross and Carol's relationship to a definitive end.

Ross chuckled somewhat bashfully and explained: "Yes, I never told you guys this, but uh...it turns out Carol's a lesbian."

That rather provocative "L" word caught the attention of Jack, whose teeth were sinking into a thick bite of roast beef. "She's a _lesbian_?" he said with his mouth full.

"Jack, don't be rude," scolded Judy.

"What, I've never seen one before!"

Monica was red in the face, trying unsuccessfully to stifle an outburst of laughter. Ross looked over at her and could hardly contain a begrudging chuckle of his own.

"It's ok, you can laugh," he said. "It is pretty funny when you think about it."

"How could you not have _known_ about it, son?" Jack asked with genuine interest.

"Oh for goodness sake, let's change the subject!" said Judy with comical irritation.

The family obliged, and the conversation shifted to Ross and Julie's plans for the summer. Ross was eager to scope out apartments in NYC, and hopefully find a job more sufficient than lifeguarding like last summer. Julie had similar prospects, and hoped to finish her graduate studies within the coming year. Both were looking forward to a long romantic summer together as a couple.

Later on, Ross and Monica were washing the dishes while Julie chatted with Judy in the living room.

"So, how does it feel to be back home?" Monica asked.

"It feels great," said Ross. "The internship was a good experience, but I couldn't have stayed there any longer than I did. I would've gone crazy."

"Well, I sure am glad you're back. I don't think I could stand spending an entire summer alone with mom and dad."

"Yeah, well, don't count on me being here all summer. Julia and I are hoping to get an apartment together as soon as possible."

Monica stopped drying the coffee cup in her hand and looked at Ross. "You and Julie? An apartment together?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

"Nothing, it's just...well, didn't you guys just start dating?"

"It's been three months, Mon. And trust me, it feels like a lot longer."

"Ok...but still, it just seems a little soon to be moving in together. Don't you think?"

Ross chuckled, the conversation growing somewhat awkward. "Why exactly do you care so much?"

Monica looked down and resumed drying the dishes in the sink. "I'm sorry, it's none of my business. I just, ya know, I don't want you to rush into anything. I mean, consider what happened with you and Carol."

"Julie's not a lesbian, Mon."

"That's not my point..."

"I know, I know. But listen, I'm not a kid anymore. I'm tired of these childish romances that never go anywhere. I want to finally get serious with a girl. I want to settle down and get married...well, eventually."

Ross always was a committed guy, Monica thought. He never wanted meaningless flings. He wanted relationships that were solid and meant to last. Then again, he had been known to fall in love with certain girls who didn't exactly share his passion for commitment to say the least.

Ross began putting the clean and dried dishes into the cupboard. As he did this, he noticed the latest edition of the local Long Island newsletter sitting on the counter. He recognized the black and white photo of Rachel Green and Chip Matthews smiling for the camera. It was their engagement announcement. No wait...it was their _wedding_ announcement.

She was married.

The photo held his gaze for several seconds. Monica saw what he was looking at. Dammit, why did her parents have to leave it lying out on the counter like that?

She touched his arm affectionately and lowered her voice. "I'm sorry...I wasn't sure if you knew."

Ross tore his eyes away from the photo and swallowed the unprecedented lump in his throat. "Good for her," he said, acting as cool and unfazed as possible. He put the last of the dishes away, and went to join his mother and Julie at the table.

Monica watched them from afar. For the sake of her brother, she took the newsletter and threw it in the trash. She knew those two smiling newlywed faces were like daggers in his heart.

She knew.

* * *

"Come on, Jules, just pick one already," Ross said. He and Julie had been browsing around a kitty kennel for over an hour looking for the perfect little fluff ball to compliment their New York City apartment.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, I just want to make sure we pick the perfect one. It's an important decision, you know. I mean, we don't want one that's going to tear up the apartment or pee all over the carpet."

"Well, how about this one?" he suggested, pointing to a devious looking black cat with yellow eyes.

"Ross that's a black cat."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, they're bad luck. Everybody knows that."

"Oh come on, that's a bunch of bullshit," he said, rolling his eyes. "Ironically, I think these things turn out to be good luck charms more than anything. Besides, it'll make us think of Halloween all year long."

"Oh, and wouldn't _that_ be a dream come true?" Julie said sarcastically.

Ross smiled. "Honey, seriously, pick whatever cat you want. I trust you to make the right decision."

Julie pondered this life-altering decision for a minute. She was very diplomatic about every choice she made. Though outwardly shy at first glance, she was very thorough, direct, and precise in all aspects of her life. Ross needn't worry about her being harebrained or negligent about anything. All he had to do was stand back and go with the flow.

"Ok, let's get the black one," was her final verdict.

"Are you sure? It might be baaad luck for us," he teased.

"Well, if our apartment catches on fire tonight I'll start to get suspicious. Otherwise, I think we'll be just fine."

Thirty minutes later Ross and Julie returned to their apartment toting their new pet.

"So what do you think we should name it?" Julie asked.

"I don't know. How about 'Blackie' or something?"

Julie made a face. "How original."

"Fine, you pick a name."

"Hmmm...how about 'Rachelle'?"

Ross' ears perked. "_Rachelle?_" he said.

"Why not? I think it's a nice name, don't you?"

"Yeah, it's a nice name. But it sounds more like a human name...you know, like for a woman." He busied himself by walking around the kitchen looking for something to eat.

"Ok, fair enough. So all human names are off the table."

Ross closed the refrigerator door, acting a little flustered and irritable for a moment. "Look, Jules, pick a human name if you want. I don't care. Just not Rachelle. I just, I don't like that name."

Julie was a tad perplexed by his strange aversion to the name Rachelle. But she shrugged her shoulders and conceded. "Whatever. I guess it's not a very good name anyway."

* * *

Monica entered her grandmother's old apartment in a hurry. "I'm home!" she called to her roommate Pheobe.

The eccentric blonde hippy emerged from her bedroom wearing another one of her funky outfits. "Great, the movie starts in twenty minutes, but we can make it if we hurry."

"Yeah, sorry I'm late, my boss made me work overtime at the restaurant."

"Yes, I sensed that you would be late. I'm a little bit psychic, you know."

Monica chuckled at Pheobe's quirkiness, which she had grown accustomed to over the past few months. "Hey, do you mind if I check the answering machine before we go?"

"Oh, don't bother. My psychic tells me that there are no messages...and also I just checked it five minutes ago."

"Oh ok. So, uh, a girl named Rachel didn't call?"

Pheobe shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. Who is she anyway?"

Monica shrugged. "Just a friend...from home. I haven't heard from her in ages. I guess I'm not even sure where she lives anymore."

"Eh, forget about her," said Pheobe. "She doesn't even care enough to call you."

Monica looked down at the floor, lost in thought. "Hm. Yeah, I guess your right." She looked up, forcing a bittersweet smile. "Well, we better go if we're gonna catch that movie."

Pheobe shrugged, "I'm in no hurry. My psychic powers tell me this movie will suck."

Monica laughed and walked out the door with her new roommate, and, quite possibly, new best friend.

* * *

**Yep, Rachel's M.I.A. for the time being. Where did she go? Your guess is as good as mine ;)**

**To be continued...**


	13. break the ice

_It's been a while_

_I know I shouldn't have kept you waiting_

_But I'm here now_

**Hehe. Hello there, and happy holidays. Hope this chapter makes up for the long delay! As always, please review!!...xoxo**

* * *

**~*Five Years Later*~**

"There's nothing to tell," said Monica. She was trying desperately to downplay the significance of her upcoming date with "Paul the Wine Guy." Joey, Chandler, and Pheobe were unconvinced.

Monica rolled her eyes and sank into the warmth of the comfy orange couch. It was another carefree Saturday at Central Perk, just she and her funny friends killing time and making jokes. The only person missing was her brother Ross, but he was likely to stop by any minute with his wife Julie in tow.

"So Joey, who are you going out with tonight?" she inquired of her handsome Italian friend.

"Angela...no wait, Andrea...no wait, actually I think I'm going out with both."

"How typical," scoffed Chandler. "Joey's got two dates, and I've got none. I guess I'll be spending another Saturday night at home. Hey Pheebs, you wanna come over and watch 'Baywatch' reruns with me?"

"Oh, I wish I could, but I don't want to."

Just then, the big wooden door flew open, as if a giant gust of wind was about to rush in. Instead, a flustered looking and rainy young women entered the coffee house. Her eyes scanned the room hurriedly, and it was clear she was looking for something more than a cup of coffee.

The coffee house patrons acknowledged her disarming presence, but to them she was just another pretty face. Monica, however, recognized the face of her estranged and former best friend.

"Oh my God, Rachel!" said Monica, jumping up from the couch and meeting the distressed and frantic eyes of her long lost friend.

Rachel's frantic demeanor was instantly softened by the sight of Monica Geller. She looked the same. Five years older, but not in a bad way. Most importantly, she radiated the same old heartfelt and familiar warmth, a rare case to find amongst the cold and bustling streets of New York City.

"Oh God, Monica, hi," she said in a high-pitched voice. She stumbled across the crowded room clumsily and practically fell into Monica's arms.

The two friends embraced each other warmly, but Monica still wore a face of utter shock and bemusement. She hadn't heard from Rachel in...well, a very long time.

"Thank God I found you here," Rachel said after breaking the hug.

"Yes, and how exactly _did_ you find me here?" Monica asked the obvious question.

"Oh, well, uh, I've had your address forever, but I went to your apartment and you weren't there, but then this guy with a big hammer said you might be here, and you are!"

Well, that hardly justified anything about this bizarre scenario, but it would do for now.

"Well hey, let me introduce you to everybody," Monica said, turning to the three people who could only be described as her 'new friends'. "Joey, Chandler, Pheobe, this is my old friend Rachel. We, uh, grew up together back in Long Island."

"Nice to meet you," said Pheobe.

"Likewise," said Chandler.

"How _you_ doin'?" said Joey suggestively.

"Oh, uh. I'm good, how are--"

"Don't bother answering him," said Monica.

"So you guys went to high school together, right?" asked Chandler.

"Yep, that's right."

"So then you must know Ross too," Pheobe said.

Rachel shifted uncomfortably.

Chandler scoffed. "I doubt _anybody_ knew Ross in high school."

"Yeah...yeah, I know Ross," Rachel finally answered.

An awkward silence arose, but it went undetected by Pheobe, Chandler, and Joey, who had no prior knowledge of Rachel's long and complicated history with the Geller family.

"Hey, speak of the devil!" Pheobe exclaimed.

Rachel turned around and met the eyes of Ross Geller, tall, dark, handsome, one arm wrapped around a tiny short-haired Asian woman.

As soon as Ross saw her he had to turn away immediately. Then he had to blink several times, staring down at the floor as though he'd just looked into a blinding light that made his vision spotty. Then his brain had to try frantically to process the surreal sight of Rachel Green standing right there in the middle of the coffee house. All this inner chaos took place over a span of two seconds, before his wife Julie could notice any discomfort on his part.

"Hey guys," said Julie brightly.

The others acknowledged her, while Julie noticed the strange girl staring wide-eyed at Ross like a deer in the headlights.

"Who's this?" Julie inquired of Rachel. "And uh, why is she staring at my husband?"

Rachel quickly looked down at the floor, and then at Monica, who soon picked up on the dangerously awkward situation and attempted to cover it up the best she could.

"Julie, this is Rachel. She's an old friend from high school. She's uh, in town visiting for the weekend."

"Oh, how nice," Julie said, smiling cordially. She approached Rachel with her hand extended. "Welcome to the city."

"Thanks," said Rachel, shaking Julie's hand politely.

Julie looked back at Ross, whose feet were still glued to the Welcome mat in front of the door. "Ross, don't you know her too?"

Ross stared down at the floor for another split second. There was no turning back. She really was there. He had to face her, as if she were a casual acquaintance from the old days.

"Rachel," he said. He approached his wife's side, and slipped an arm around her waist. He painted a smile on his face and averted her heartbreaking green eyes when he spoke. "Good to see you."

"Thanks. You too."

"Hey Ross, you wanna go to the Knicks game tonight?" asked Joey.

"No thanks, Joe. I have a lot of paper work to do."

"Ross just started teaching at NYU," Monica informed Rachel.

"Oh. That's um--"

"Hey sweetie, do you want any coffee?" Ross interrupted Rachel and turned to Julie.

"Um, sure," she said. "Could you get me a nonfat latte?"

"Of course. Anything for you." Ross smiled and kissed her check with exaggerated affection. "I'll be right back."

Ross excused himself abruptly and headed over to the coffee counter. Rachel could only follow him with her eyes.

* * *

Rachel scowled into the phone she'd had glued to her ear for hours. "Well I'm sorry, but maybe that's my decision...well maybe I don't need your money...wait, wait, I said maybe!"

After the tense encounter with Ross, Monica invited Rachel upstairs to her apartment.

"I think my father just cut me off," Rachel said.

"I'm sorry, Rach."

Rachel clutched the phone to her chest, taking deep breaths. "No...no, it's a good thing. I had to get out of there. They were all trying to suffocate me."

"Um, so what exactly happened anyway? Why did you leave Long Island?" Monica asked delicately.

Rachel sighed and sat down at the kitchen table. "I'm divorcing Chip. And my parents...well, they're not very happy about my decision, as you can see...I knew Daddy was gonna cut me off if I did it. I knew. But I just couldn't stay with Chip any longer." She looked up at Monica. "Do you think that's wrong?"

Monica shook her head, smiling warmly. "No. Of course not. You can't stay married to someone you don't love."

"It's not just that I don't love him...I don't even _like_ him. Not anymore at least." She sighed wearily. "Chip really wants to have kids. I told him I was off the pill, but I lied...I just couldn't stand the thought of having kids with a man I didn't love. That's not the way it's supposed to be."

"You did the right thing, Rach. And listen, if you need a place to stay tonight, you're welcome to sleep in the guest room."

"Thanks. But, uh...the thing is, I don't really have any place to stay...like, ever. Especially now that my father cut me off."

Monica reached over and touched Rachel's hand affectionately. "Stay as long as you need, Rach. You're always welcome under my roof."

"I know," Rachel said, smiling. "That's why I came."

* * *

"So, it must've been weird seeing that Rachel girl after all these years," Julie said as she climbed into bed next to Ross.

"Uh, yeah. Sure," Ross said, not looking up from his paper work.

"She seems...nice. Shy, but nice."

"Uh huh."

"And let me guess. Cheerleader? Prom Queen? Most popular girl in school?"

Ross shrugged. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"You guess?"

He finally looked up at her. "What?"

"I'm sorry, it's just...well, I guess I'm just having a hard time picturing a girl like Rachel being friends with Monica. I know that's a shallow thing to say, but can you blame me?"

Ross shrugged again, remaining cool and disinterested. "I don't know. I guess they just...care about each other."

* * *

"Ok great, so you can start work on Monday," said a rather comical looking man with bleach blond hair.

"Thanks Gunther," said Rachel. "I'll see you Monday. Can't wait!"

Rachel walked out of Central Perk feeling rather empowered after landing her first real job in the working world. She smiled merrily on her way up to Monica's apartment. For the first time in her life she felt like she was in control. She was a person, not a puppet. She was going to live her own life, despite the hardships it would inevitably bring.

Her momentary high was shot down as soon as she entered Monica's apartment and saw Ross standing in the kitchen. He was alone, and wearing a business suit as if he were on his way to work.

"Hi."

"Hi. What are you doing here?"

"Looking for Monica. What are you doing here?"

"Well, I'd love to start chatting with you, Ross, but you'd probably just interrupt me again."

Ross looked down. "Yeah, about that...I'm sorry."

"It's all right," she said coolly. Then she proceeded to walk right past him, headed for the guest room.

Something about this made Ross' blood boil. He lost his temper and shouted, "Rachel, what the HELL are you doing?"

Rachel stopped in her tracks and turned around, her face fuming. "Why are you treating me like this?"

"Why are you coming back into my life this? Huh? Are you just bored? Did you just need a little vacation from your rich luxurious life?"

"I don't have to explain anything to you."

"Like hell you don't. Do you think I need you popping in and out of my life whenever you feel like it? Do you think I don't have a job, and a wife, and a future of my own without you screwing everything up?"

"What if I didn't come here to ruin your life, Ross? What if I didn't come here for _you_, period. What if I came here because I was looking for a friend."

"Well, you sure didn't need a friend five years ago when you went off and married Chip Matthews. Congrats on your divorce by the way."

"Thanks a lot. You've been busy yourself it seems," she bit back, referring to his wife Julie.

"I moved on," Ross said flatly. "From everything."

"Yeah. Clearly." She raised her eyebrows condescendingly.

Ross took a step closer to her, suffocating her, his temper flaring. "Ya know, I didn't think about you ONCE in the past five years. Not once."

"No kidding. You made it pretty obvious."

"Oh yeah, you must've gotten that impression from all those long, pathetic, desperate letters I wrote you saying how much I loved and missed you. You do know what sarcasm is, right?"

"And you do know that when you write somebody a letter you're supposed to mail it to them, right? God, you were in Egypt for Chrissake, you'd think you could've at least sent me a postcard with a goddamn pyramid on it or something."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Ross. If you wrote those letters you sent them to the wrong address. I never heard a word from you after you ditched me in Long Island."

His face had hardened to stone. "That's low, Rachel. That is really low."

"Yeah? Well, I'm just trying to stoop to your level."

Ross heaved an exasperated sigh, and put his head in his hands. "Just leave. Please...I just, I can't deal with this. Everything was going great up until now."

"Yes, Ross. I can see that you're a _very_ happy man."

Ross let his hands fall away from his face, exposing his eyes, which had daggers for her. "Leave," he said.

"Fine. I'll go to my room." She turned away from him with cool confidence, slamming the door behind her.

She had held her own out there, facing him for the first time in so many years. But inside her room, she collapsed on the bed in a fit of tears. He'd been so cold and harsh with her. It felt like ice pumping through her veins.

"How did I ever fall in love with that man?" she thought.

The next morning she awoke at sunrise and snuck out of the apartment before anybody noticed. She left Monica a note, saying she'd changed her mind, she was going back to Chip. She really did love him. All lies.

A little while later she was shivering at the train station, suitcase in hand. Finally her train to Long Island rolled up. As she hurried to catch it, she heard a vague and familiar voice calling her name.

"Rachel!...Rach!"

He ran up to her, wildly out of breath, chest heaving. "Don't leave," he said, panting.

"How did you know I was here?"

"Monica...called...note..." The cold air was making his lungs freeze over. And he was still half asleep.

"So Monica sent you, huh?"

"No, she didn't. She told me you left...but she didn't tell me to come after you."

She folded her arms across her chest, defensively. "Why should I believe you actually want me to stay?"

Ross reached out and placed a delicate hand on her shoulder. "Because I'm your friend. And I always will be." He smiled, warmly and sincerely. "You came to the right place, Rach."

Rachel swallowed the lump in her throat. "Thanks," she said softly.

"God, I'm so sorry about yesterday. It makes me sick, thinking of how I acted. It's just...oh God, I was so damn shocked to see you. I didn't know what to do, so I just pushed you away...can you understand that?"

She nodded. "I think so."

"It's ok if you don't understand. It's ok if you don't forgive me either. Just please, don't leave."

"I think we've already established that I'm not leaving, Ross," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

He smiled. "Well, good. Now come on, let's get out of here. I'm freezing."

Rachel was only happy to oblige. When she reached down to grab her suitcase, Ross picked it up for her instead. She smiled, and the two walked side by side out of the scarcely populated train station together.

"You wanna grab some coffee?" Ross asked.

"Sure," she said. "Where?"

"Where do you think?" he said with a teasing chuckle.

* * *

**to be continued...**


	14. where are you now?

**Now don't get too excited.** **This is just a scrawny little update to assure all of you wonderful readers that I am still committed to this story. I'm sorry I kept you waiting so long. Please review and let me know you're still invested in this story as well, just like I am. Thank you all for your kind and helpful reviews...xoxo**

* * *

Rachel sighed and sank into a piping hot bubble bath after a long day of pouring coffee for a thousand busily detatched New Yorkers. She was tired, but in a good way. And in fact she had grown to love the aching feeling of release that followed after a long and grueling workday on her feet. Her private moments of relaxation were scarce, but hard-earned. And perhaps the best feeling of all was knowing her new gang of friends were out there laughing and chatting up the night as if they hadn't a care in the world.

"Ahhhhh," was the only word on her mind as she reflected on her new-found independence as a single young twenty-something just trying to find her place in this world. She had never known life could be so true. So true, and so real. And that reality, in fact, could be so beautiful and adventurous once the veil of her pastlife had been lifted.

Her quest for independence was rewarded with a newfound confidence in herself. Not to mention friends, especially Monica, who demanded nothing from her...well, except for her share of the rent every month.

Her relaxation was interrupted by a loud banging on the door. "Hey Rach, hurry up, I gotta pee!" said Joey.

"Joey, I'm taking a bath for Godsake!"

"Yeah, so? You're not taking a bath in the toilet, are you?"

"No, but you still can't come in here!"

"Oh come on, Rach. We're_ friends_, aren't we?" he said with a suggestive grin.

Rachel just rolled her eyes at his overtly flirtatious nature. "Sorry, Joe. Just go over to your own apartment if you have to pee that bad."

A light must've gone on in Joey's head, and then she could hear him dash across the living room, headed for he and Chandler's apartment across the hall. "Joey, you knocked over my grandmother's lamp!" she heard Monica yell after him.

And then Rachel overheard Chandler telling a story about everyone at work thinking he was gay. "You just have a quality" she heard Pheobe say. Rachel chuckled to herself, and began to get out of the bathtub, eager to join her friends.

That was another thing: whenever she had a moment of "alone time" she seemed to find herself longing for the company of her friends. Back in Long Island she recalled feeling suffocated by most of the people around her, even her own family at times. Back then she cherished her moments of seclusion, always looking for an escape route, a way out.

Things were different now.

She wrapped herself up in a towel and entered the living room were the whole gang was sitting casually around Monica's coffee table.

"Hey Rach. How was work?" Monica asked.

"It was good. Tiring," she said, grabbing a soda from the fridge before heading to her room to get dressed.

"Ok, so anyways, it was Christmas Eve, and my step-Dad had just sold his blood to buy us food," Pheobe said, resuming her telling of a bizarre childhood story that was very much her forte. Rachel had been put-off by it at first, but warmed up to it very quickly. Now the only time she felt alarmed was when Pheobe actually did something normal.

"Hey Rach, don't you want to hear the rest of the story?"

"Uh, maybe later, Pheebs. I think I better go put some clothes on first."

Pheobe rolled her eyes jokingly. "Fine, if you call _that_ a reason."

Rachel laughed. And just before she entered her bedroom, her eyes met his, ever so briefly, only in a wink, and dream-like.

Whenever he looked at her, he looked away.

His wife sat right beside him on the couch.

* * *

"I think Ross hates me," Rachel vented to Monica the next day. The two of them were out shopping at Bloomingdale's, having a girls day out sans Julie, much to Rachel's secret relief.

"Oh Rach, how could you even think that?" Monica asked. "I've never once heard him say anything mean to you."

Rachel stopped dead in her tracks and looked Monica square in the face. "That's exactly my point."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he doesn't say _anything_ to me. He ignores me like I don't even exist. Don't tell me you haven't noticed it too."

"Well..." Monica pondered. "I guess I've noticed him acting a little uncomfortable around you. But that's pretty understandable, given...well, things that have happened in the past."

Rachel let out an exasperated sigh. "God, I know that, Monica. Of course I do. I mean, I didn't exactly expect us to be great buddies when I moved to the city...but I didn't expect him to treat me like this either."

"I'm sorry, Rach. I had no idea you were feeling this way."

"Also..." she trailed off.

"What?"

"Well..." she said. Rachel was checking the price tag on a dress, distractedly. "When I tried to leave...you know, when I was going to go back to Long Island...he was the one who came after me. He _asked_ me to stay, Monica. But for what? He obviously doesn't want to be my friend."

Monica sighed, and tried her best to comfort her oldest friend. Ross' detached and ellusive treatment of Rachel was evident, but what could she say? He was a married man now. He was finally with someone who shared his brainiac interests in science, and wanted the same things he wanted. His life was stable and had direction. She knew her brother wanted that. He _needed_ that. She also knew she would have to chose her words carefully when discussing this with Rachel...whatever "this" was.

"Listen, Rach. If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that Ross could never hate you."

In the back her mind Rachel knew this was true. "So...what do you think I should do? I mean, don't you think I should talk to him about this?"

Monica looked down at the floor, and then up at Rachel. "Honestly? No, I don't."

Rachel was caught a little off guard by her blunt response. "Well, then...what should I do?"

"Rach," Monica said, touching her arm. "You should live your life. Ok? Do what you've been doing, which is gaining your independence, and growing stronger every day. You've accomplished so much in this past year, and I'm so proud of you."

Rachel's lips couldn't help but curl into a reluctant smile. "Thanks, Mon."

"No problem. And listen, I realize you're still going to be distressed over Ross' behavior, and I don't blame you. But I just don't want to see you brooding over this, after everything you've been through. You have to live your life, and let him live his. I know it's hard. But it's just...life."

* * *

**Yikes, it almost pains me to post an update so short. Hopefully it was better than nothing. **


	15. Look at me

"Ok, so that'll be four scones, five lattes, and two white chocolate mochas?"

"Uh, no, Rach," Monica corrected. "It's actually two scones, four lattes, and no white chocolate mochas."

"Oh. Ok. Got it. Sorry." Rachel hurried off to fill the large order for all five of her friends, including Julie. Her rather scatterbrained waitressing skills had become a running joke among the group.

"Actually Rach, on second thought," Chandler said, "why don't you bring us six scones, ten lattes, and a partridge in a pear tree?"

"Very, very funny," Rachel said, returning promptly with the scones. She took a seat on the couch next to Monica, figuring she'd take another hard-earned "break" from waiting tables. She knew her boss Gunther would ever so lovingly call her back to work when he needed her.

Julie said, "Hey, have you guys ever seen that documentary on the History Channel--"

"You mean the one about reproduction?" Joey interrupted. "Yeah, sure, I've seen that! Can you believe certain reptiles are asexual? Man, it must suck to be a frog."

"Uh, Joey, that's not the documentary she was talking about," Ross said. He generally took it upon himself to put Joey's dim-witted oblivion in its place. After nearly two years of marriage, he sometimes felt his wife Julie was still adjusting to Joey's brainless charm, Chandler's sarcasm, Pheobe's peculiarity, Monica's abrasive compulsion, Rachel's...

"Anyway, like I was saying," Julie continued, "The other night Ross and I were watching this fascinating documentary on scones. You know, where they originated, how they're made, who invented them. It sounds boring, I know."

"Actually Julie, when _you_ tell the story, it's not half as boring as when _Ross_ tells it," Chandler said. "In fact, I think you should be Ross' official mouthpiece from now on. Anyone else agree?"

Ross was rolling his eyes as the rest of the group concurred, all in playful nature of course. He turned to look at Julie and said, jokingly, "Well sweetie, I'm gonna go to the bathroom right now. Why don't you 'tell them for me' so they don't, you know, die of boredom at the sound of my voice."

Julie laughed along with the rest of the group as Ross got up from the couch, heading to the bathroom. As he maneuvered across the floor, he was all the more fixated on averting Rachel's eyes than making a straight and orderly beeline for the men's room. He'd only recently concluded within himself that he was staggeringly terrified of their eyes locking in a confrontational gaze from across the crowded room, or anywhere. The worst case scenario occurred a week ago when he'd strolled into the coffee house on his lunch break thinking he'd find the entire gang convening in their usual spot. Much to his surprise he found the big orange couch deserted and Rachel standing at the counter holding a coffee pot and looking at him. Without sitting down or ordering anything he pretended to be looking for Monica and walked out the door. He recalled vividly how she hadn't smiled or tried to initiate conversation when she saw him there. She knew by now not to expect cordiality from the man who sought to avoid her at all costs.

He didn't know how it came to be this way. Surely it was his own doing. He knew that much. She must have truly hated him by now, and he wouldn't have blamed her for the world.

The first thing he saw when he exited the bathroom was Rachel and a suave young man named Patrick talking at the counter. He was a co-worker of Monica's, and quite possibly the most handsome man in the lower part of Manhatten. The two had been seeing each other for about a month now, and were headed off on their usual Friday night escapade together.

"See you guys later," Rachel waved to the gang as she and Patrick made their exit. "Oh, and Mon, don't bother waiting up for me. I'll be staying at Patrick's place tonight."

"Ok, have fun."

When they were gone, Pheobe turned to Monica and said, "Wow, nice going, cupid. You sure served Rachel one tasty dish." Everybody knew she was referring to Monica's fixing Rachel up with her "hot waiter" from the restaurant. It was purely accidental of course that Patrick just so happened to be the most delicious thing on the menu.

"Honey, we should probably get going," Julie said to Ross.

"Yeah, I guess we should." He supposed it was getting rather late for two married twenty-somethings to be loafing around a coffee house on a Friday night. In all honesty Ross could've stayed there chatting mindlessly with his friends until the wee hours of the morning. But he knew it was something Julie could only take in moderation. It just wasn't her scene.

"Well, goodnight you crazy kids," Chandler said jokingly because it was hardly eight o'clock. "And hey, don't let any of those History Channel documentaries keep you up too late."

"We won't," said Julie, perhaps only half kidding.

"Goodnight, you guys," Ross said, as he followed Julie out of the coffee house.

* * *

Ross and Julie's high-rise apartment was quaint with a modern décor. While modest intellectuals in most areas of life, neither made any bones about their mutual flare for science and archeology. The bulk of the apartment, bedroom included, tended to reflect their scholarly aptitudes from every angle.

On that Friday night, Ross sat on the couch with a tedious stack of papers on his lap, tuning in and out of a History Channel program he'd seen at least ten times previously. He could hear Julie fussing around in the kitchen behind him, scrubbing down a countertop that could've easily passed for immaculate in his book. Julie often resembled his sister Monica, at least where her strict sense of order was concerned. Knowing this about his wife after two years of marriage, he didn't dare make any bedroom advances without certainty that every last countertop, dish, and trinket was pristinely in its place. He hated to think of her mind being preoccupied with dust bunnies and dirty dishes when they were locked in the throes of intimacy.

Ross turned down the volume on the TV and voiced the rather harebrained idea he'd been mulling over for the past several minutes. "Hey Jules," he said.

"Yes?" she called from the kitchen.

"What would you think about driving up to Vermont tomorrow? You know, just for a little weekend getaway."

"Tomorrow?" she said. "That's uh, kind of sudden, don't you think?"

"Well...sure, I guess. But I don't see why it matters one way or the other. I mean, don't you think it'd be nice to get out of the city for a couple of days?"

Julie was chuckling. "You don't see why it _matters?_" she said. "Ross, assuming you haven't made hotel reservations, or anything, what are you proposing we do, sleep in the woods?"

Ross came to the obscure realization that he was more or less conversing with the dinosaurs on TV. Not wishing to carry on like this, he rose from the couch, and went to the kitchen to speak to his wife face to face. "Look Jules, I'm sure we'd have no trouble booking a hotel room if that's what's holding you back. I just think it'd be nice to, you know, just pick up _go_ somewhere, without having to make any tedious plans, or organize a thousand little details beforehand."

"Well then, Ross, why don't we just pick up and go to the _movies_ or something like that? There's no sense in lollygagging off to Vermont _tomorrow_ when we haven't made any of the necessary arrangements."

Ross could see his attempt at initiating spontaneity was a no-go. Perhaps a venture along the lines of "planned spontaneity" would be more to her liking, but surely not something harebrained as this. He'd have better luck initiating sex on the kitchen floor. He guessed he should've known better by now.

Julie, however, wasn't entirely opposed to the idea, provided it be enacted on her own terms. "Listen, Ross, if you want to get away for a weekend sometime in the future, I'd say fine. But we'll need to examine our schedules and pick a date that works best for both of us. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course," Ross agreed. He'd already admitted defeat. The idea as a whole had run dry of its spark. Even after briefly discussing possible openings in their schedules, he'd decided to drop the whole thing altogether.

* * *

"I'm telling you, Monica, it was like she couldn't even _entertain_ the idea of doing something spontaneous and spur of the moment like that. She said that instead would just plan to 'go to the movies' or something."

Monica was probably the wrong party to be venting his frustration to, since she was more likely to ration with Julie in this case. "Well, I'm sorry, Ross, but it sort of sounds like you just sprang it on her at the last minute. I mean, maybe she had other plans or something."

"But she doesn't," Ross said. "She's back at the apartment right now vacuuming the couch cushions."

"Lucky bitch," Monica said.

"She even gave me this funny look when I told her I was going to the coffee house to hang out for a little while. I mean, what am I supposed to do, sit around the house all day while she sweeps the floor underneath my feet?"

"Ross, I have to be honest. I'm not entirely comfortable with where this conversation is going. I mean, are you trying to tell me you're unhappy in your marriage?"

"No...I don't know. Look, I _am_ happy. Really. I love being married to Julie. I just...I just want..."

"Look, if you really want to go to Vermont, what you should do is go online and book a nice lodge somewhere in the mountains. I'm sure Julie would love it."

"Screw Vermont," he said, dispassionately. He was entirely indifferent to the location, truthfully. It wasn't about Vermont. It had never been about Vermont.

Just then, Rachel and her boyfriend Patrick entered the coffee house hand in hand. "Hey Mon, hey Ross," Rachel said.

"Hey guys," Monica said. "How was your date last night?" Her polite interrogation compensated for Ross' lack of cordiality around Rachel and her boyfriend.

"Oh, it was great--as usual! Patrick is just dropping me off. I promised Gunther I'd work an extra shift this weekend." She scowled in frustration. "God, what the hell was I thinking agreeing to work all day on a Saturday?"

Patrick stroked her cheek affectionately. "Oh come on, honey, it's not that bad."

Rachel blushed, and couldn't help but agree. Nothing seemed that bad when looking into his charming blue eyes. "Well I guess I'd better get to work. I'll see you later tonight, ok?"

"Ok. Goodbye. Have a good day."

"You too."

They shared a sweet and lingering kiss on the lips. Ross looked down at his coffee cup, wishing he could dunk his head in and drown. Patrick bid Ross and Monica a polite goodbye before departing out the door. Rachel watched him go, gazing after him with an indiscrete dreaminess in her eyes.

"Monica?" she said. "Did I remember to thank you for setting me up with him?"

Monica laughed. "Yes, you did. But feel free to express your gratitude as often as you'd like."

Rachel just sighed contently, and went behind the counter to put on her apron.

Monica looked at Ross, and noticed how uncomfortable he looked in his seat. She couldn't help but feel sorry for him, even though she knew he and Rachel were ancient history. However, she could imagine how awkward he felt seeing Rachel and Patrick flaunt their new relationship right under his nose. She also knew how desperately he sought to avoid her at all costs. She supposed she was guilty of turning a blind eye to it, hoping the two of them would learn to be friends over time. That still hadn't happened.

"Ross..." Monica said, wishing to end his awkward silence.

"Yes?" he said, looking up.

"Are you ok?"

He cleared his throat. "Yes. Yeah, of course. But I uh, I think I'm gonna take off now."

"Ross, you don't have to leave," Monica said, lowering her voice substantially. "You don't have to leave because Rachel is here."

"What?" he said, surprised to hear that from his sister. "I don't, that's not why--"

"Why don't you just try being friends with her? I really think it would help you to move on."

Ross was taken aback by this confrontation. "What the hell are you talking about, Monica? _Move on?_ I'm married for God's sake."

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about, Ross. You can't avoid each other forever. It's getting childish. Please, just try to be her friend, the way you are with me and Pheobe."

Ross was rendered speechless. He couldn't believe Monica was calling him out like this, on top of his problems with Julie. "Look," he said, firmly, "I don't need my baby sister dictating my actions like this. I'm a grown-up, I can take care of myself. Just stay out."

With that, he turned and stormed out of the coffee house. He knew it wasn't necessary to be so hostile towards Monica, but he wasn't in the mood for interrogations today. But after walking no more than a block down the road, he began to ponder what she'd said.

Meanwhile, Rachel was standing behind the counter at Central Perk, cleaning out the cappuccino machine, per Gunther's request.

"Hey Rach," said a man's voice behind her back.

Rachel turned around and was surprised to see Ross standing before her, looking directly into her eyes, like he had something to say to her. "Oh, um...hey. Did you, uh, want more coffee?"

"No, no," he said. "I was actually wondering if you and Patrick would like to go on a double-date with Julie and I tonight."

"Oh. Well, um...I..." she couldn't help but stammer in shock at how assertive he was being. He rarely spoke more than two direct words to her lately, and now this?

"Sure, why not?" she finally said. It wasn't the most sincere answer she could've given, but it was something.

"Great," he said. "I'll make reservations at Ernie's. See you tonight."

"Ok, see ya."

Ross left the coffee house, and Rachel just stood there in awe, attempting to piece together what had just occurred between them.

"Monica," she hissed, "what the hell did you say to him?"

"Me? Nothing, I swear."

"Monica!"

"Ok, ok. I might've told him that it's about time you two stopped avoiding each other like the plague, and that maybe he should be the one to make the first move."

"Oh, great. This is great. Now he's only being friendly with me because you forced him to."

"I did not _force_ him to, Rach. It was just a suggestion. For once, it appears he actually listened to me. Come on, just go out to dinner with him and see how it goes. Who knows, you might even have fun."

"Oh yeah, real fun," Rachel said with a more sarcastic edge than even Chandler could've mustered. "Just me, and Patrick, and Ross' wife who hates my guts. One big happy family!"

"Julie doesn't hate you, Rach. I'm sure she just senses the tension between you and Ross and it makes her feel awkward."

"Right, right, the tension. You mean the fact that he can't even look me in the eye or say Hello to me when I'm around? Well I'm sorry if I've made _her_ feel awkward around _me_. I'm sure having dinner with them will be a blast considering Ross hasn't spoken more than two words to me in the past nine months. I mean, what the hell is he trying to prove, huh?"

"You know what, Rach? _This_ is what I'm sick and tired of! This childish bitterness that the two of you have towards one another. Regardless of who's right or wrong, you need to start being civil with each other before it's too late. It's not only affecting you--it's affecting the entire dynamic of the group too! Now please, if nothing else, just do it for me, Joey, Chandler, and Pheobe. Because believe me, they are as sick of this crap as I am."

Rachel heaved an exasperated sigh, regretfully acknowledging that Monica was right. "Ok, fine," she said. "Consider it more 'gratitude' for setting me up with Patrick."

Monica smiled. "Thank you," she said. "And hey, after tonight I think you'll have officially thanked me enough."

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading. I'm working on getting the next chapter up as soon as possible...please review if you have a chance.**


	16. Reflection

"Rach..." he whispered, disturbing the silence.

"Yeah?"

"You, uh...you like me. Don't you?"

She smiled against his chest. Their bodies glistened with a rather sultry kind of sweat.

He could be so shy...

"You're ok, I guess," she said, pinching his bicep to emphasize the sarcasm in her tone.

Ross chuckled, a little embarrassed now. Sometimes he felt so foolish.

_This isn't high school_, he told himself. _She doesn't just think you're a big nerd_.

She lifted her head to look up at him, then rested her chin on his chest.

"Do you like _me_?" she asked, her lips curling into a playful grin.

He smiled and brushed the hair out of her eyes. She had that adorably cheeky sense of humor he could count on to lighten the mood.

_You're in her __**bed**__, for God's sake. _

"You're ok, I guess," he quipped.

She laughed and kissed his chest, trailing her way upwards to his collarbone, then to his neck and jawline. Finally their lips met, and she welcomed his tongue while his fingers tangled through her golden mess of hair.

After a firm and drawn-out kiss, he moved his lips to her ear and held her close.

"You know how I feel about you," he whispered hotly.

She clawed at his back, a gesture that was somehow roughly tender when orchestrated by her.

"Maybe I don't," she said in a sensual tone.

She was half-serious and half-playful--they were still in that mode. But without affirmation, she peeled herself off of him, and rose from the bed. She put on a robe that had been draped over a chair, then went and stood before the vanity mirror smoothing out her disheveled hair and appearance.

He watched her from the bed. She was difficult to read at times, but after seeing her intimately for nearly a month, it was becoming easier. He knew when she was playing her little games with him, baiting him with little hooks, and challenging him to take the initiative - "if you want me, come and get me"...and he always, always did.

After watching her for several moments, he got up and crossed the room to where she was brushing her hair in front of the mirror. From behind, he slowly encircled his arms around her tiny waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.

They watched each other through the mirror as Rachel continued to brush her hair, slowly. After holding her gaze for several moments, Ross began planting soft kisses on her shoulder through the fabric of her robe. Soon he pressed his lips to her neck, kissing her there while his arms encircled her even tighter.

Rachel closed her eyes and felt herself melting into him all over again. She couldn't help it. He made her feel so good.

A soft moan escaped her lips when she felt his tongue rolling hotly over the taut and tender areas of her neck. She moved her head to the side to give him better access. He took this as permission to get bolder. Her hair brush slid out of her hand and hit floor with a thud when she felt one his hands slip through the front of her robe. When she exhaled deeply her breath was heavy and jagged.

"You know I'm crazy about you," he whispered with his lips to her ear.

She turned around in his embrace, putting her arms around his neck and hugging him tight for quite a while.

"I know," she whispered. She reached up to stroke the back of his head, sweetly.

"You know how long I've..." He trailed off.

"In high school you liked me a lot."

Ross rested his hands on her waist and pulled her back a little so he could look into her eyes. "I wanted you so bad." He paused. "I mean, I just...wanted to be with you."

She swallowed an unprecedented lump in her throat, and felt herself blushing in spite of herself.

"Ross..."

"Yeah?"

"I...I like you too...a lot."

He couldn't contain his smile. "Really?"

She nodded, smiling also, and leaned in to wrap her arms around his middle, enveloping him in a sweet embrace. "Of course I do."

But as she held him close, her smile began to fade.

"I'm sorry," she whispered very softly, wearing a look of sadness.

She didn't want to hurt him.

**7 Years Later...**

"Rachel?...Rach?"

"Huh?"

"We're here."

She looked over at Patrick, realizing their cab had come to a stop, having reached its destination in front of Alessandro's.

"Oh...ok." She smiled weakly, still a little dazed.

"You all right?"

"Yeah, fine." She noticed the impatient driver glaring at them through the mirror. "Let's go. They're probably waiting for us."

Patrick paid the driver and offered Rachel his hand as she climbed out of the cab.

"We're with the Geller party," she told the hostess when they entered.

"Right this way."

They had arrived about fifteen fashionable minutes past eight o'clock. Ross and Julie were already seated at a table in the back; they'd been there long enough to order two glasses of Merlot, become formally acquainted with the waiter, and scan the entire menu at least forty-two times apiece.

"Married people are punctual," Rachel muttered to herself.

"Hey, you made it," Ross greeted them, hoping his cordiality was at least passable.

"Sorry we're late," Patrick said.

"Yeah, sorry," added Rachel. She and Patrick took the two vacant seats opposite Ross and Julie. "So, uh. Have the two of you ordered yet?"

"Just the wine," Julie said, raising her glass.

"Oh...ok." Her eyes made brief contact with Ross'. Only this time, to her surprise, he didn't look away.

"Yeah, we ordered a bottle of Merlot, if you want some. Or you can just, you know, order whatever you want."

She cleared her throat, feeling like she might be blushing for some reason, and quickly looked away. "Uh, ok, yeah. Merlot sounds good. Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

So now all of a sudden he was done treating her like a parasite, huh? She assumed the ball was in his court, considering their cold impersonal treatment of one another had been his initiation all along. She felt her insides boiling up with mixed emotions toward him. She reached for the bottle of Merlot Ross had offered her, and poured herself a generous glass. She was going to need it.

"So Rachel," Julie said. "How's the waitressing job going?"

Rachel sensed that Julie was straining herself to make small-talk. She obliged, though, out of courtesy. Nobody _else_ was attempting to cut the tension anyway "Oh, it's going fine, I guess. It's not exactly my dream job, but it'll do for now."

"Well Ross told me you'd never had a real job before moving to the city."

Rachel looked at Ross. "Really. He told you that?"

"Well, yes..." Julie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, worried she might've said the wrong thing. She'd been grasping for appropriate topics of conversation, considering how rarely she actually spoke with Rachel. "Hm, he just told me how you, you know, didn't really need to work when you were married to that football player guy...and then, um, after you divorced him you sort of had to get out on your own for the first time."

"You've been married before?" Patrick asked.

Rachel tore her eyes away from Ross, turning to look at Patrick. "Uh, yeah. I have."

"Oh. You never told me that.

"Yeah...I'm sorry, I just-"

"But hey, it's not like we've know each other that long."

She could tell by the tone of his voice he was not at all fazed by the revelation. She turned her attention back to Julie and Ross' end of the table, deciding to shift the focus on them.

"So Ross, Julie. How's life at the museum these days?"

She kept her eyes on Ross, while Julie spoke up first.

"Well, since you asked," Julie said, "Ross and I happen to be planning this huge dig in Cairo. It's not definite yet, though. We're still trying to convince the museum to fund it and everything."

"I'm sorry, did you say 'Cairo'? That's in Egypt, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

"And that's where the two of you met...right?"

"Um...yeah. That-that's right, we did." Julie once again shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She was a little surprised, and confused as to why Rachel would know that off the top of her head.

"So you guys met in Egypt, huh?" Patrick chimed in politely.

Rachel couldn't help but smile weakly in his regard. He was helping things somewhat, being so ingenuously far removed from the situation.

"Excuse me, waiter, would you mind brining us a knife to cut the tension with?"

That's what Ross felt like saying by the time the young, inexperienced waiter came by with the check.

"Let me get this," he offered immediately.

"Are you kidding?" Rachel said. "Ross, you are not picking up the check for Patrick and I."

He looked her square in the eye. "Let me," he said coolly. "I want to. It's my treat."

But Rachel wouldn't budge. "Forget it. We can pay for our own dinner, thank you."

"Yeah, man, don't worry about it. I can take care of Rachel and I. Thanks for offering, though." Patrick chimed in rather awkwardly yet again, attempting to compensate for Rachel's discourtesy.

"Well, ok," Ross conceded. "But at least let me pay for the wine."

**~*~**

Her hands were balled into fists as her heels clicked rapidly against the pavement.

She was furious.

He must've thought he was so smooth, offering to pick up the check for poor little Rachel and her cheapskate boyfriend. Money was tight, after all, considering she was "just a waitress."

And while she knew Julie was innocent in most of this, she hadn't missed the subtle mockery in her eyes when she'd attempted small-talk at the dinner table. _So Rachel, Ross tells me you never had a job before moving to the city...So Rachel, is it true you dropped out of college and never went back?...So Rachel, Ross and I are planning this amazing dig in Cairo--that's in __**Egypt**__, in case you didn't know._

So that's why he'd asked her out to dinner that night; to humiliate her. Well, she was now humiliated with _herself_ for having mistaken his invitation for some kind of a peace offering. She should've known it was just another passive-aggressive way of making her feel like scum.

"Rachel, slow down!" called Patrick.

She'd already walked five blocks, but it felt like nothing at all, considering she was running on steam. _Angry_ steam that needed to be blown off, and fast. She'd neglected to hail a cab in front of the restaurant, telling Patrick she'd rather walk. She told him he didn't have to follow her if he didn't want to...she wasn't sure she even cared.

Both were exhausted when they finally reached her building.

"So, are we staying at your place tonight?" Patrick asked hopefully.

Rachel sighed, breathing heavily from the walk, and smiled weakly. She sort of wanted to be alone--she was still angered by the events of that night--but figured it couldn't hurt to have some company. Besides, she sometimes felt like she was getting back at Ross by being with a guy like Patrick. It was childish, she knew, but it gave her some satisfaction, especially after what happened that night.

Before she could answer him, though, she felt her phone vibrating in her purse. She flipped it open and saw Ross' number on the screen.

He never called her.

She looked at Patrick. "I'm not feeling so good. Maybe we can do it another night?"

"Oh," he said, disappointment in his face. "Well, sure. Maybe some other time."

"Goodnight," she said, smiling weakly. She leaned in to give him a quick kiss before rushing off abruptly.

As soon as she got inside her apartment she called him, her heart pounding.

"Hi," he answered right away.

**To be continued...**

**To my wonderful readers - I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update this. It isn't due to a lack of interest, just time. I still feel that I owe it to you to finish what I've started, even if it means taking 6 months between updates. Thank you for reading this chapter, and let me know what you thought :)  
**


	17. Friends

As soon as she got inside her apartment she called him, her heart pounding.

"Hi," he answered right away. The tone of his voice was soft, but abrupt. She couldn't put her finger on it.

There was a long pause on her end.

"Are you there?" he asked.

She cleared her throat. "Yeah," she said, trying to mask the astonishment in her voice. She chose her words carefully. "So...you must have called me by mistake."

"Uh, no, actually. I wanted to call you, because...I want to see you. Tonight."

"What?" she said, almost dropping the phone. He sounded somewhat desperate. "Can you meet me somewhere? I want to talk to you."

She thought he must have been crazy for calling her up like this, and at that time of night. Yet she couldn't deny the blood pumping rapidly through her veins when he said he wanted to see her.

"Ross, I...but what about--"

"Don't worry about Julie. It's not a big deal. We're friends."

She felt her face begin to harden. "Are we?"

He didn't say anything for several moments. She could hear the sadness in his voice when he finally spoke. "Meet me at Central Perk in half an hour." After a pause, "Please."

So maybe he was ready to play nice. Dinner wasn't quite nice enough for her, though--he'd have to do better than that. "Ok," she conceded, finally. "I'll be there."

~*~

Her heart was pounding with anticipation as she approached the doors to Central Perk. If asked, she'd deny there were butterflies in her stomach at the thought of meeting up with him like this, discreetly, separate from the gang, separate from his _wife_, most notably.

He was already there, sitting at a table in the corner, far removed from where they normally gathered on the big orange couch.

She smiled weakly when she sat down across from him, then quickly looked away. She intended to proceed with caution.

"Thanks for coming," he said, smiling warmly.

She shrugged, maintaining her cool demeanor. "Don't mention it."

"Would you like some coffee?"

"Sure." She then noted the late hour and asked Gunther to bring her a cup of tea instead.

"So..." he said.

She looked him straight in eye, her expression blank. "So what?"

He chuckled nervously.

"So I guess the ball's in my court, huh?"

She didn't crack a smile. "I wasn't aware that we were playing a game."

They held each other's eyes rather intensely before either of them spoke up again. If this was a game, perhaps the playing field was now leveled, and they both begin to meet each other where they were at.

"Look Rach. The reason I asked you here is to apologize for my behavior. I know we haven't been close in...well, since you moved to the city."

She chuckled, but it sounded more like a scoff. "Yeah," she said, looking down. "Well I guess you've got your own life now." She looked at him. "We both do."

He put his head in his hands and sighed, exasperated. "I want you in my life, Rachel. I want us to be friends. I just...it's so _hard_."

She felt her temper mounting hotly. He wasn't making this any easier on her.

"I never asked you for anything, Ross," she said, her voice full of hurt. "If it's too damn hard for you, then fine, just keep ignoring me out of spite. You're good at it."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Oh please, Ross. I know this is about you getting your revenge for all those years I ignored you in high school. Well, you've made your point. But you know what? I was just a spoiled little girl back then, I didn't know any better." She folded her arms across her chest and pierced him with her deep blue eyes. "But I would _never_ treat you that way now."

Ross' jaw hung open. Rachel's words were harsh, but he couldn't fault her for it. She was hurting...he'd been hurting her.

"Rach, I am very sorry that you feel that way. But please understand, that was not my intention at all, to ignore you out of spite, or anything like that." He looked down and began to shake his head sadly. "I never wanted it to be like this."

Rachel's hardened demeanor began to soften up slightly. He looked so genuinely sad. For a moment she began to wonder if he was truly happy...with anything. She folded her arms even tighter across her chest, though, refusing to let her guard down just yet.

"I don't know what to say to you, Ross," she said softly.

He took a deep breath and braced himself, knowing he needed to confront this head-on. "Rachel, I feel like I need to avoid you, because it's the best thing for both of us. When you first moved to the city to live with Monica, I was scared. I mean...I couldn't believe you had actually come back. I didn't think I'd...well, I just wasn't expecting to see you." He paused before continuing. The next part was difficult for him to say. "I wanted to be your friend, because that's what you deserve. But Rachel...God, you can't imagine what goes through my head when I look at you."

She felt herself shifting uncomfortably in her chair. What he'd said was jarring. She didn't know how to take it.

"I didn't come here to ruin your marriage, Ross," she said. Her voice was full of complicated emotions. "I was miserable after my divorce, and I felt so trapped. I needed to gain my independence, for the first time in my life. When I came to city I did it for _me_."

She found herself fighting back tears now, and was forced to look down. "I knew I could count on Monica to help me out, even though we'd lost touch for many years." She looked up at him. "I figured you had moved on...from us."

That hit him like a ton of bricks. It was the first time either of them had acknowledged the romantic history they shared, ancient as it was. Over the years, there had been times when he wondered if it had all been a dream.

In fact, sometimes it even began to feel like _she_ was a dream...that perhaps he'd fantasized her entire existence. He recalled writing letters to her--the ones she never responded to--and thinking maybe she wasn't even there. As time went on, he still wrote her letters, but stopped sending them.

But her using the word "us" just now was his confirmation that it was real. There had been an "us." There had been a "them."

"Oh God, Rach..."

He looked down at his hands, unable to face her anymore. She knew she'd undone him. He'd undone her too, and she was crying softly now.

A little embarrassed, she dug into her purse for some tissues and wiped her eyes and face. "Ross...look at me, please."

He did.

She had to brace herself to say what she was about to say, her lip quivering. "I want you to do what you need to do to be happy. If that means continuing to avoid me...then so be it. And maybe the two of us will never be friends." She sighed. "But I just hate that I'm making you feel so awkward and uncomfortable. I feel like I'm...like I'm putting a strain on your life, just by being here."

"Hey, hey," he said. He reached across the table and took one of her hands in his. "Do _not_ feel that way, Rachel. Because it's nothing you did. It's _me_." His expression was so full of pain, because it killed him to hear her say those things. "This isn't fair to you. And that's why I'm thinking..."

He trailed off.

"Thinking what?" she asked.

"That Julie and I should just leave New York. At least for a while."

"What?" she gasped.

"It would be for the best," he continued. "You'd see."

"Ross, no, you can't. You can't leave because of me."

He was shaking his head. "It's not that, Rach. Julie and I have been wanting to go to Cairo so she can work on her P.H.D., and--"

"No," she cut him off urgently. "That's not it. I don't believe you. You're leaving because of me, because I'm ruining your goddamn perfect life."

She'd already gotten up from her chair, almost knocking it over in the process. In an aggravated fury she grabbed her coat and purse and got ready to storm out the door.

"Rach, wait! Please." He tried taking her arm, but she jerked it away.

"It doesn't matter what you say, Ross. I already told you to do whatever the hell you need to do." She hesitated at first, but said it anyway. "Leave if you want to."

They looked into each other's eyes intensely for a brief moment before Rachel threw her purse over her shoulder and walked out.

**~*~**

As soon as her feet hit the pavement she was sobbing. She couldn't hold it in any longer. It hurt.

She didn't care for the onlookers who turned their heads to witness her in her moment of distress. This was New York, and she could cry all over it if she wanted to.

"What's the matter, baby? Need a shoulder to cry on?" slurred an eerie-looking drunk who lay slumped against a building.

She shuddered and picked up her pace, knowing she'd need to collect herself before going home to face Monica.

Suddenly she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. It should've startled her, but it didn't.

"Let me walk you home," he said warmly.

The sound of his voice was so comforting on a street full of dark strangers. She was too stubborn, though, to turn around and have him see how upset she was.

"I think I can manage," she said with as much confidence in her voice as she could muster.

He was more persistent this time, and actually stepped in front of her so they were face to face. She tried to wipe her tears away before he saw them, but there were a few too many.

"Rach, please look at me."

She finally did.

"I want _you_ to be happy."

She looked at him and her bottom lip began to quiver all over again. "Then don't leave."

He smiled weakly, and slowly pulled her into him. She hugged him back, crying softly. She knew it was dangerous for them to be doing this, and that maybe this was one of the many reasons Ross had avoided her for so long.

After hugging him tight for several moments, she slowly pulled away. There were some things she wanted to say to him, and she knew this might be her only chance.

"Wait," he said, afraid she was going to end things right there.

She reassured him with a smile. "Ross, I need to tell you something."

He nodded, looking eager. "Ok."

She took a deep breath and continued. "That summer you and I had together...it was very...well, I enjoyed it very much. It was really special to me. And I want you to know that I really did..."

She trailed off, finding it difficult to finish. Words failed her anyhow when Ross suddenly leaned in and kissed her. It was gentle at first, but quickly grew into something more aggressive and passionate...a passion that was mutual.

There was little glamour in the lonely romance they shared beneath the burnt-out streetlights. It was too sloppy for Hollywood. Too unscripted and wrong...so very wrong indeed.

She was the one who broke the kiss, knowing they couldn't take it home with them. They'd have to leave it on the streets and say Goodnight to it forever.

"I'm sorry," he said breathlessly. He hung his head and stepped back.

Both maintained their distance for several moments, as if some kind of lengthy recuperation period was warranted after sharing such a passionate encounter. Finally, she closed the gap between them, taking hold of his hand.

"I'm sorry too," she told him softly.

He looked down at their hands which were entwined at his side. Then he looked up, into her eyes. They were full of sadness, and that saddened him. God she was beautiful. That much was obvious to anyone with eyes, naturally, but she had always been a special kind of beautiful to him. Somewhere in the dark corners of his mind, he thought, 'I wonder if I'll ever get over her'.

"I should go," she said.

He nodded. "Yeah...me too."

It was silently understood between them that they would never speak of this again. Despite her lukewarm feelings toward Julie, Rachel knew she never wanted to come between a marriage, or corrupt the stability, and the life that two people had created together. Having come from a broken home herself, the thought actually sickened her.

There was just one more thing she needed to say to him, though. "Ross, you know...you were wrong to think the two of us could never be friends. Because when we were together, you were one of the best friends I'd ever had."

Ross smiled. It warmed his heart to hear her say that--it truly did.

And he knew she was right.

**~*~**

**I'm a little iffy about this chapter...felt like the ending was kind of anti-climatic. But there WILL be more drama and Ross and Rachel action to come. (Hint: Reviews make me write faster ;) Thanks so much for reading...xoxo  
**


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